DAMON II
by vlwillis
Summary: The continuing story of DAMON, pls read DAMON first. The Burkes have taken custody of a 12 yr old boy who is placed in the witness protection program because someone will kill to find him. He is also Neal's son. Discipline of a child/ Minor cussing. GEN
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin. : Criminal Minds is the property of CBS, the actors, producers, and writers of the show.

**Claimer:** Damon is mine

**Warning:** Minor cussing; discipline of a child. No sex, no slash (like Damon would say, 'Ewwww!')

This is a continuance of the story DAMON. Please read DAMON first, or you will not understand the story line.

**DAMON II (1)**

Damon stood on the rooftop looking across what he could see of the city. Spring was coming, the cold was breaking, and the piles of snow were slowly losing ground as their melt-off flowed into the city's gutters. He was 13 years old now, but except for a small unofficial celebration, it went unnoticed. The Burkes told him he would get a proper party when he officially turned 13 with his WC WITSEC (White Collar Witness Security, or Witness Protection Program) identification. He didn't care if he was still officially 12, which meant he could still get in the Met or Avery Fisher Hall or various other places where 12 and under is free.

If he leaned out just a little, he could see the area in Central Park were the parkour enthusiasts practiced. He had run across them last fall and watched them training with amazement. He found out parkour, or free running, was a discipline to teach participants how to move through their environment by vaulting, rolling, running, climbing and jumping. His supple, lithe build mixed with his agility, and love to run and climb made him an instant enthusiast. And his Caffrey charm and smile soon found him willing instructors to help him learn. Some of the more hard core enthusiasts trained through the winter, but Damon was more than willing to wait for warmer weather to go back. He wasn't totally out of shape; he had spent enough time in the 'dungeon' to maintain his young muscles.

He thought back over the last six months…

***WC***

Mrs. Burke's first book assignment had been Mark Twain's 'The Adventures of Tom Sawyer'. When she handed him the book he had protested… "That's a kid's book!"

"Damon, you are a child, and this is a book about a young man about your age and his adventures. I think you will like it and it is your assignment." She left no room for argument.

A couple hours later he told her that he had read the book, she looked surprised, "Already?"

He froze, irritated with himself, she was looking at him funny, like he was different; he could not stand being looked like he was different… "Ah, I read the first chapter Ma'am." He did not lie to her; he did read the first chapter… He remembered after that to take an appropriate amount of time to read her books.

"Well, how do you like it so far?"

"It's Ok, I guess." He did not like it, he thought Stephen would have, Stephen would have thought it was great! But he had been on his own adventures, and they are not all they were cracked up to be, sometimes they are pretty lousy. He wondered why his mother had never let him read fiction when he had gotten older, then the answer dawned on him, she forgot to tell him it was okay, and Stephen, who would never dream of questioning his mother's orders, had never asked.

When he had turned in his book report, he did some quick comment on why a con should never exceed his abilities, followed by a discussion of Samuel Clemens and what life was like in the 1870's on the Mississippi River. Mrs. Burke had not been pleased; she informed him that a book report was supposed to be about the book, not the author or the times. But it was his first book report ever, and she cut him some slack. He tried harder after that, he just wished she'd get away from the kid's books! She was finally assigning him teen books and it was a little better.

Not like he wasn't reading adult fiction. When she had first given him clearance to read fiction, he had gorged himself on it. He'd gotten what you might call a belly ache in the head, like he'd eaten all desserts and no solid food. He went back to his meat and potatoes, non-fiction, and saved the fiction for dessert, or an occasional treat.

And the math. He found out he liked it, the books were still boring, but he loved working equations and formulas. Agent Burke had been quite patient with him when he first started, helping him work through those first obstacles, the worst one being his own head thinking he didn't like it. But once he got the hang of it… One thing Damon didn't realize was that Peter had seen his reaction when he told El he had read the book, and after that Peter made sure he never showed any surprise in Damon's accomplishments in math. He praised him, yes, but he never acted like Damon was doing anything any normal child his age could do. Another thing Damon did not know; he was well into high school math and Peter was very impressed by his accomplishments.

One of Damon's biggest problems in working the formulas was his brain worked faster than his hands could write them down. He had a tendency to miss parts of the formula. His final answer was correct, but the formula was wrong. When Agent Burke would call him on this he'd get defensive, "What difference does it make, I got the right answer!"

Finally Agent Burke had to explain:

"Damon, these formulas must be written right so you can show your train of thought beginning to end so that anyone reading it can understand how you got your answer. Life is the same. Plans are like formulas. Say I had a criminal I wanted to apprehend. If I went to Agent Hughes and said I need this amount of personnel and this equipment and I will catch the thief. His first question will be 'How?' I have to sit and write a plan, a formula, placing each person and each piece of equipment into the formula so that the end result is the capture of the criminal. And all personnel involved must know exactly what their place is, and what their purpose is in the formula. If I do not make every one understand exactly what my train of thought is, I might not achieve my goal. These formulas you are writing are easy compared to a mission plan; you need to develop a habit now of writing down every step of your thought process and it will help serve you well in other aspects of your life."

Damon did try harder after that, he tried slowing his brain down so his hands could keep up, but sometimes his brain acted like a separate entity.

***WC***

Agent Burke wasn't there every night for his home schooling. Agent Burke had an important job, and sometimes he worked evenings, or even all night.

He remembered the first time Agent Burke had to leave for an all-night surveillance, Damon had freaked out. He had begged him not to leave Mrs. Burke unprotected, she needed someone there with a gun to protect her if the killers came for him. He embarrassingly remembered that he had been out of control, and Agent Burke had had to send for another agent to come sit with them before he would calm down. But he hadn't trusted the agent, he wasn't Agent Burke, and he had sat up all night watching out the window just in case the killers came so he could protect Mrs. Burke. He didn't go to bed until he saw Agent Burke's car pull up to the curb out front.

But he had learned to trust the watch, he caressed it gently, trust the alarm system, and most of all trust Agent Burke to be able to protect him and Mrs. Burke whether he was home or away.

He chuckled when he remembered when Agent Burke had gone undercover as an accountant. Neal had been there while Agent Burke was getting ready to play the role. Damon had been laughing at the idea of him being an accountant when Neal spoke up, "Aw come on Damon! I think he looks debonair!"

Damon had lost it then; he guessed he laughed so hard that Agent Burke jokingly threated 'dungeon' time if he didn't quit. He had lost complete control at that, laughing so hard his stomach started hurting. Didn't they see, Agent Burke was not a nerd accountant, or debonair, he was Agent Burke! In Damon's child's mind he was Special Agent Peter Burke, Superhero, Protector of the Innocent… his protector.

***WC***

He had done his time in the 'dungeon', mostly for little stuff. Like the time he was sitting at the dining room table and realized he had skipped a section on his formula; again… '_Shit!_' had slipped out of his mouth before he even realized he had opened it. He had looked up at Agent Burke and sure enough he was looking straight at him, not saying a word. Damon knew the deal; he'd been through it enough times…

"How long this time, Sir?"

"Well, two hours only lasted you about a week, let's try four hours this time."

He'd shut his book and went to the 'dungeon'.

***WC***

Yea, he'd gotten the 'dungeon' for being late, or not answering his phone when Agent Burke called. He thought about that time he'd really messed up by not answering the phone. He had wondered into a seedier area of the city, not the ghettos, far from that, but not up to the Burke's standards. He had run into some kids throwing dice and when he had stopped and watched, they had invited him to join. What the heck, he wanted to try his hand at shooting craps, he had some money left over from lunch, and he had fun. He'd set his backpack to the side, forgetting he'd left his phone in it, and with all the noise the group was making, he'd never heard it ring. It was his turn up, he tossed the dice, and just as he saw he'd rolled a seven, he'd been jerked to his feet by his jacket collar. Agent Burke had been fuming! He didn't even let him collect his winnings, he'd just grabbed the backpack and drug him to the car and threw both inside. When they got home he had been sent to his room, at least Agent Burke didn't follow him up that time. He wasn't as angry as he had been about the school deal, but he was still pretty pissed.

_Yes, Peter had been angry. When he had checked Damon's GPS he had seen the area of the city Damon had wandered into, and when he didn't answer the phone… Peter had rushed to find him, expecting the worst, almost in a state of panic, and then to find him perfectly safe and rolling dice… _

Agent Burke had ended up giving him a lecture about not answering his phone; Damon thought that's what really got him the most, and the gambling, being in a poor part of town and hanging with those kids hadn't helped. Heck, Agent Burke was always on him about making friends his age, and when he finally found some he could tolerate; he got chewed out for it! He got several days in the dungeon for that one. Damon never wandered back that way again, he didn't want to run into those guys, not after the way he'd been embarrassed right there in front of them.

No, Agent Burke didn't want him making friends with kids like them; he wanted him to make friends with kids like… well, like the Burke clan.

He thought about the Thanksgiving trip to upstate New York to visit the Burke family. That did not go well.

***WC***

##### To my Damon fans, sorry it took so long to post this; I had to work out some kinks. Comments are appreciated! Thank you! #####


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin. : Criminal Minds is the property of CBS, the actors, producers, and writers of the show.

**Claimer:** Damon is mine

**DAMON II (2)**

*** He thought about the Thanksgiving trip to upstate New York to visit the Burke family. That did not go well. ***

He had begged the Burkes to let him stay home while they went on their yearly trek to the Burke's hometown for Thanksgiving. If they didn't want him to stay home alone, Neal could have stayed with him. But no, they made him go.

Damon was not used to family gatherings especially since he had never been to one. Growing up, his entire family had totaled two, him and his Mom. And this was not his family; it was the Burke's family. Satchmo had been another contention. In the past they had just kenneled him and stayed at Agent Burke's dad's house. Mr. Burke did not allow dogs to sleep indoors. Damon would not go without Satch, he didn't know how much Satch helped with his dreams and he was afraid to find out. At least Agent Burke compromised on that. He made arrangements to stay at his grandfather's house instead, and being an old farmer in an old farmhouse there was no problem letting the dog sleep indoors. He didn't run the farm anymore, he was too old, but one of his grandsons, one of Agent Burke's cousins, lived with him and ran the farm.

Damon did enjoy the drive up. It was nice to get out of the city and he had liked the farm, it reminded him of the old days when he had gone to visit the rancher. To everyone's surprise, he had hit it off with the old man. Damon had always gotten along with the elderly; he used to play chess with them in the town square before… Although the senior Burke was in a wheelchair now, he was still lucid. He took an immediate liking to Damon. Why? Because Damon was the only one who hadn't heard his stories for the umpteenth time. He had a new audience and Damon enjoyed listening to his anecdotes.

Damon didn't mind it at the farmhouse; it was when they went to Agent Burke's dad's house that the problems started. Mr. Burke owned a large house; he'd needed one to raise his half dozen children. All his kids were there with all their spouses and all their children. Seems Agent Burke and his wife were the only childless couple in the family. It was crowded! Damon had learned to deal with the large crowds in the city, but that was different. In the city they were all single entities, sure there were small groups here and there, but on the whole they were alone, just like him. They were all equal. But the Burke clan was one large established group, and he was the outsider.

Mrs. Burke was in the kitchen with the other women, bustling around preparing the evening's feast. He couldn't get near her and Agent Burke was in the living room area with the men. They were watching pre-game activities on the large screen television located in that room. Agent Burke had told him to go into the family room with the other children. It had almost sounded like an order so he went.

Over a dozen children were in the family room and all of them, in one form or another was involved in a video game. They had the game system on the TV, a game going on the desktop computer, a few personal laptops were scattered around. If they weren't playing, they were watching someone else play, waiting their turn. There were only a few girls, seems like the Y chromosome was dominant in the Burke family, gathered around one laptop giggling about who knew what.

Damon entered the room and several heads turned toward him; the newbie, the outsider. They had all known each other since birth. One spoke up, he was trying to be nice, "Hey, what games do you play?" His partner elbowed him in the ribs.

"I don't play video games." His mom did not like them and did not approve of them. She said they were a waste of brain time. Although he was never forbidden to play, the couple times he did, he could not get interested.

All heads turned his way then, elbowing each other and laughing. "What do you play?"

"Chess."

Yep, here it goes, it happens every time, 'what a nerd!', 'he's a geek!' Damon left.

Damon's age group, up through the teens is a very pack oriented time of life. In the confusion of those years, they need a pack, a group, a gang, for the emotional support. Damon was a lone wolf, he ran alone. Packs are frightened of the loner, the outsider, either intimidated by the difference, or jealous that another can stand alone when they cannot. Whatever reason, the outsider is attacked, intimidated, forced to run or join and conform.

Damon wandered through the house and found Mr. Burke's den and slipped inside, unseen. He had a small library in there and he checked out the books. He knew the man was a brick-layer and he located a book on the subject, he hadn't studied that before, and settled down out of sight behind the small sofa.

Meanwhile Peter was still trying to deflect the ongoing questions to the mysterious arrival of a godson. Damon had overheard several of the comments himself.

"I don't ever remember you mentioning a David Henderson," Damon's WITSEC 'father'.

"Why didn't you tell us you had custody of him earlier?"

"Seems like you would have said something about having a godson." Etc., etc.

Damon remained hidden and silent when he heard the door to the den open.

"Get in here Peter; I want to talk to you." It was Mr. Burke, Agent Burke's dad.

"Peter, I know darn well you did not have a friend named David Henderson, or a godson. I might be getting old, but I am far from senile. I would remember if you had ever mentioned it! What are you trying to pull? Is this one of your criminal deals like that Caffy, or Coffee, or whatever his name is?"

"Dad…"

"I thought I raised you better than that! Criminals belong in jail, not running the streets! First you let that one out to run free in New York City, and now you bring one into my home!"

"Dad, he's just a kid…"

Damon would have laughed, hearing Agent Burke getting chewed out like a kid, but the subject matter was too sobering.

"Children his age are killing people! What's the story with him? And don't you lie to me, Peter!"

Agent Burke's voice had firmed up then. "Dad, you need to drop this discussion."

"Ah, so I'm right! He is one of your FBI cases! What'd he do, rob, cheat, murder?"

Damon could tell Agent Burke was getting irritated. "Dad, you need to accept what I have told you. There will be no further discussion on the matter."

He heard Agent Burke turning to leave the room, Mr. Burke called after him. "This is not over, Peter! You better not have brought trouble into my home!"

They left the room, but Mr. Burke's last statement brought images unbidden into Damon's head. What if the killers came here? What if they opened fire on all these innocent people? Damon could not stand the idea of any more murdered in his name. He put the book away and slipped out of the office, he moved quietly and unobtrusively through the house. He was spotted by a couple of different people, but they did not really notice him. He was not one of the clan. He had slipped out the door unnoticed and went for a walk.

As soon as he had gotten out of sight of the house, his spirits started lifting. It was a fairly warm day, a last respite before the winter's wrath was to set in. He enjoyed exploring the town, it was huge compared to his hometown, but after spending so long in New York City, it seemed like a nice small town. There was hardly anyone out and about; all were home with family and friends for the festivities. There was no one to hinder him or to notice him and he lost track of time.

***WC***

No one noticed Damon missing until it was time to serve the meal and everyone was seated. The Burke's had several tables set up to accommodate the clan. In the dining room was the extra-large dining room table, it was the adult table. Tucked in the corner was the little'uns table. Young children old enough to take care of themselves, but young enough that the parents wanted to keep a close eye on them. In the front room was the young adult/older teen table, and in the family room was the younger teen/middle school table, Damon's age group. The latter table had an empty chair.

When questioned, no one remembered seeing Damon for hours; last known sighting was in the game room with the kids. Peter wondered what the heck the kid was up to now. He didn't want to check Damon's tracker in front of everyone, they already had too many questions, so he went into the den to bring the information up on his phone. His dad saw him and followed him in.

"You try to tell me he's not a criminal and you have a GPS tracker on him? Boy, I don't know what's come over you, but you need to consider what you are doing! Is he dangerous?"

Peter had had enough, Damon was a couple miles away and he had to get to him. "Dad, enough! I am done talking to you about this! I am going to get Damon!" He brushed by his dad and left.

Mr. Burke was stunned; Peter had rarely, and not in years, raised his voice to him.

***WC***

Damon was walking along the sidewalk when he heard the car approaching and slow behind him. He, by habit, checked his escape routes. The car stopped beside him. It was Agent Burke, who proceeded to reach across the passenger seat and opened the door. Great, he'd messed up again. He climbed in.

"Where do you think you are going, Damon?"

"I was just walking."

"Do you know the whole family is waiting dinner on you?" Agent Burke was not happy.

Damon had several thoughts flash through his head, _why would they wait? They are not my family! Who gives a f**k _but since none of these answers was an acceptable one, he remained silent.

"Damon, you are not even trying to get along. I know you can do better, when we get back, I want you to try to make friends."

"Yes, Sir." Damon thought Agent Burke had no idea.

***WC***

Elizabeth had been so busy with the women helping to prepare the feast that she was unaware of any problems going on with or about Damon. After he had disappeared and she heard the gossip going around, she had taken her stand. She was not a Burke by birth, and she didn't care what they thought of her. She stood in the middle of the room, hands on hips, eyes flashing.

"What is wrong with the lot of you? You are talking about a little boy! A little boy who lost his mother, the only parent he'd ever known, less than a year ago! (This was true in both his real and WITSEC ID) The **only** thing you need to know about him is that he is a child; a child who needs love and understanding!" With that she had stomped back into the kitchen before she lost control entirely.

This had finally shut the adults up, and left Mr. Burke with his second shock of the day. He had never seen Elizabeth angry. What was going on in Peter's household?

***WC***

When Damon and Agent Burke had returned, Damon had noticed some of the adults trying to smile at him. He ignored them; he figured it was some kind of trap. Agent Burke was about ready to send him to the kid's table when senior Burke spoke up. Senior Burke was still very astute and noticed all that had gone on around him that day, and he really did like the boy.

"Peter, send that boy of yours over here. My arthritis is acting up something awful and I need him to cut my meat for me!" One of Peter's sisters offered to help him.

"Nonsense girl, you got enough to do, I need someone who can stay right beside me. Boy, can you use a knife?"

"Yes, Sir." Damon responded hopefully.

Peter still had his hand on Damon's shoulder, wanting to send him to his own age group, to socialize, to be a kid.

"Peter, send that whippersnapper over here! Claire, move those chairs down, make a place for the boy!"

The old man was the patriarch of the family. They obeyed and Damon was allowed to sit by him, at the adult table. Damon cut his meat and made sure the senior Burke had everything he wanted. He did not make eye contact with any other adults at the table, and he made double sure he did not make eye contact with Agent Burke.

***WC***

Damon remembered the senior Burke fondly; he was a nice old man. He was the only one of the Burke clan he had liked. He shuddered when he thought of Mr. Burke, Agent Burke's dad. And then there had been the fight…


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin. : Criminal Minds is the property of CBS, the actors, producers, and writers of the show.

**Claimer:** Damon is mine

**DAMON II (3)**

*** Damon remembered the senior Burke fondly; he was a nice old man. He was the only one of the Burke clan he had liked. He shuddered when he thought of Mr. Burke, Agent Burke's dad. And then there had been the fight... ***

***WC***

After the meal, the senior Burke had to go take a nap, and Agent Burke took the opportunity to redirect Damon to the family room. Damon knew he had no choice, not unless he wanted to live in the dungeon. The table had been moved out of the way, and the kids were all back at their video games. Damon was starting to understand why his mother had hated those things so much.

As he entered the room and the kids started noticing him, they elbowed each other to get their attention. Soon all eyes were on him, the outsider. Several of them twisted their fists on their nose at him, the 'brown-nose' signal; he figured it was because he got to sit with their great-grandfather. No, Agent Burke had no idea.

He found a spot as far from everyone as he could get and pulled out his cell phone. He hadn't bugged Spence earlier, because it was Thanksgiving, but now he was getting desperate. He and Spencer Reid of the BAU had been playing online chess against each other for quite some time, often texting each other during the game. He queried Spence to see if he was available for play and thankfully he was. Soon he was lost in the game, Spence was a tough opponent and Spence always insisted Damon play the black. Spencer had learned to read Damon's moods from his style of play and he knew Damon was irritated; playing chess would eventually calm him down.

Suddenly Damon's phone was jerked from his hand. He looked up to see one of the bully type kids with his phone.

"Whatcha' doin' brown-nose?"

Damon slowly stood up, fists clenched at his sides, he had just about had enough. "Give. Me. My. Phone." He stated it slowly, monotone, and as a quiet demand.

"Whatcha' gonna' do about it, woose?" He held the phone high, wanting Damon to jump at him, trying to retrieve it, to make everyone laugh at the newbie.

That failed, he started messing with Damon's phone. "The nerd is playing chess!" Everyone laughed, well Damon felt like everyone did. The idiot made a move on Damon's game, almost immediately, Damon got a text message. Spencer knew that Damon would never make that move and sent a text to ask what was wrong. The punk checked his message, noticing who it was from.

"You play chess with a Dr. Spencer Reid? What kind of geek are you?" The kid was a couple years older than Damon, and whereas Damon would never play contact sports; he was built for running, not fighting; this kid was built for football. He was taller, broader and he outweighed Damon. Damon didn't have a prayer in a fight against him.

But Damon had had enough and running was not an option. He was not a rat; he would not go running to the adults in the other room. Damon was angry and he had had enough so he attacked.

He was mad enough to get a couple good hits in before the bully regained his balance, and then he got Damon down and started punching him. Fortunately for Damon, the adults had heard the ruckus and quickly broke up the fight. Peter got ahold of him and Damon thrashed against him, trying to continue the fight. It took Peter calling his name several times to get him to quit struggling. Damon finally ceased, but he stood there, staring at his opponent with those hard, cold eyes.

The interrogation started. "He hit me first!" Everyone verified the bully's statement, Damon had attacked first. No one mentioned the phone, and Damon wasn't talking. He clammed up totally. Damon saw no sense in talking. He had attacked first, and anything else was his word against the Burke clan. He had the right to remain silent, and he chose to use it. Of course, the Burke clan found Damon guilty, with no testimony in his favor.

Mr. Burke had announced smugly, "Peter, you need to take care of your problem!" _I told you he was bad news_, was insinuated. Peter knew exactly what his dad meant, he was a firm believer in the belt; he had felt it enough times. And he expected Peter to take him into a bedroom right there so everyone would know that justice had been served. Everyone expected Damon to come out of the bedroom red-eyed and too sore to sit.

Something kept nagging at Peter… There it was again. The buzzing. He turned his head toward the sound and noticed the phone on the floor and realized it had been going off periodically announcing incoming text messages. Still holding onto Damon, he picked it up and read the messages. They were all from Dr. Reid, all increasing in intensity, all concerned about Damon. His own phone was ringing, again. It had gone off several times during the dispute. He slid Damon's phone into his pocket, and took his own out, it was Spencer Reid.

He pulled Damon into the front room, he couldn't talk with all those eyes watching, waiting; and answered the phone,

"Spencer?"

"Peter! I finally got you! Is Damon OK? Do you know where he is?" Spencer sounded very worried.

"He's okay, Spencer. He's right here. Why? Why did you think he was in trouble?" Peter wanted to make sense of the whole situation.

"Peter, we were playing chess, and suddenly he made a move I know he'd never make, even joking. I texted him to see what was up, and he wouldn't respond. Did something happen? You sure he's okay?"

"Yeah… yeah, Spencer he's alright, that helps clear some things up. I'll give you a call later; I really have to go right now. Thanks Spencer." He turned Damon to face him and noticed he was going to have a nice shiner.

"Did someone take your phone?"

Damon wasn't talking, he had shut down, and his eyes were cold and hard. Peter knew he had to get him out of there, get him away. What had gone wrong?

"El! Elizabeth! Would you get our coats, we're leaving." Elizabeth rushed to get them, she agreed with her husband's decision.

Peter's dad did not agree with Peter's decision, Burke justice had not been done. "Peter, I can take care of the problem for you. I guess you're not used to the parenting thing. I'll take care of it." He **wanted** to take care of it. He didn't like the way Damon looked at him with those eyes.

"We're leaving, Dad."

***WC***

They had driven back to the farmhouse to spend the night; Damon still wasn't talking so they called it a night and went to bed. Peter wanted to get up early to head back home. Normally, they would spend another day or two, but Peter and El just wanted to get Damon home and away from the Burke clan.

Before they had finished packing the car for the trip home, Damon was in the back seat with Satchmo, silently waiting to return to the safety of the NYC Burke home.

On the drive home, Peter contemplated on what had happened, what had gone wrong? Two days earlier Damon had been a happy child, he was adjusting well to the Burke home, his smile and laughter brightening their days. He loved seeing the look on his face when he had solved some particularly hard mathematical problem. Some talk about a light bulb going off in your head, but with Damon the light would shine in his face with the happiness of discovery.

Peter sighed, now he had this dark, moody and silent child in the back seat. What had happened?

He had wanted Damon to meet his family. He had expected Damon to be his friendly outgoing self, he was so much like Neal that he had expected Damon to turn on that Caffrey charm and win the hearts of the Burke family. He had wanted his family to like Damon. He thought about that, why had he wanted his family to like Damon? What did it matter if they liked him or not? But he had really wanted his family to accept Damon, and maybe he had pushed too hard… He sighed again, he had pushed too hard.

They arrived home in the early afternoon. Once the luggage was taken into the house, Damon silently disappeared into the basement. They had to make him come upstairs to eat dinner; afterwards, he slipped back down to the dungeon. Peter and El had both tried to talk to him but he was unresponsive, his eyes reminded Peter back to when he first came to them, minus the 'rabbit' and the fear. But his fear had been his way in back then, now he could find no foothold in the wall Damon had put up. Peter waited, giving Damon the time needed to work through it. He had to be made to go to bed that night.

***WC***

The next morning, by the time Peter and El had gotten up, Damon was already in the dungeon. Peter left the door to the basement open so he could hear what Damon was doing. He was working and Peter could hear the desperate drive of his work. Late afternoon the sound finally changed. Peter could hear him working over the punching bag. Damon had discovered Peter's old free standing kick/punching bag buried among all the boxes, furniture, etc. stored in the basement. He had asked permission, of course granted, to leave it out where he could use it. Damon had some anger issues, he often vented his frustrations on the bag, and sometimes he just worked out on it.

Good, Peter thought when he heard him pounding the bag, good he is working it up and out. He was striking the bag harder and more rapidly then he thought he'd ever heard him do before. He waited, listening.

Finally, the noise stopped, silence. He waited a few more minutes and then headed down into the basement.

Damon was sitting on the couch that he had cleaned up and placed so he could use it, his head was down and he was crying. Peter sat beside him and put his arm around his shoulders. "Better?" Damon nodded. "Ready to talk?" Damon shook his head. "Okay, I'll wait." He pulled Damon tighter and waited.

Damon soon realized that Agent Burke was not going to walk away this time; he was going to sit there until he talked. He worked to regained control. "If you want to send me away, I understand."

Agent Burke jerked with surprise; he pushed Damon away so he could lift his chin up and look him directly in his eyes. He had a nice shiner. "Why do you think I would want to send you away?"

Damon jerked his head sideways to release his chin, and tucked his head back into Agent Burke's chest. He couldn't look at him while he explained; Agent Burke wrapped his arms around him. "Why Damon? Tell me." He gently prodded.

Damon was fighting to maintain control. "Because I lost control and came between you and your family. You have to send me away so your family will like you again!"

"Damon you did not come between me and my family! That is not the first argument I have had with them, and I'm sure it won't be the last. But that's the thing about family; we are still family no matter what happens. Families are forever. Besides," He paused, lifted Damon's chin so he could look him in the eyes again. "We have a deal, remember?" Damon nodded. "And I am not backing out of my end of the deal. Are you?" Damon shook his head. "Good. That's settled." He let go of Damon's chin and held him a while longer.

Damon was relieved; Agent Burke chose to do his job in spite of his family, and part of that job was to protect Damon. He would be able to stay with the Burke's until his case was resolved.

After a few minutes, Agent Burke released Damon. "We have some other things to discuss."

Damon sighed, "I know."

"Okay, since you know, you tell me what you did wrong."

"I shouldn't have gone walking without permission, I shouldn't have lost track of time, and" he hesitated, "I shouldn't have hit that kid."

"Correct on all counts. Why did you hit the boy?"

Damon shrugged his shoulders, "It doesn't matter. I hit him first."

"Damon, it does matter. He took your phone and teased you, didn't he? That boy's always been a trouble maker." Damon remained silent. "Damon?"

"I'm not a snitch."

Peter frowned, the boy would not admit to being harassed, but by stating he was not a snitch indicated there was something to snitch about.

"Okay. Why did you come down here to work?"

"I figured I had earned time, and was saving you the trouble of telling me."

Agent Burke had actually smiled as he passed sentence and gave Damon credit for 'time served'._ Peter wished all his offenders would confess and pass self-punishment so easily._

***WC***

Damon shook his head. Why was he reminiscing on the bad times when there where so many good times to think back on. He gazed across the city from the rooftop and recalled…


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin. : Criminal Minds is the property of CBS, the actors, producers, and writers of the show.

**Claimer:** Damon is mine

**DAMON II** (4)

*** Damon shook his head. Why was he reminiscing on the bad times, there where so many good times to think back on? He gazed across the city from the rooftop and recalled… ***

Once he got back in good graces after his school fiasco, he had the run of the streets again. Mornings, of course, were spent in the library; it was too long a habit to break. But afternoons were his. Central Park was one of his favorite places. There was always something going on there. Often he just observed others, watching, learning from their actions and reactions to the environment. And there was always parkour at the park.

Sometimes he went to Agent Burke's office. He got along with almost everyone there now, except for Senior Agent Hughes. Agent Hughes didn't seem to like him much, but he didn't seem to like Neal much either. After he apologized to Agent Berrigan for lifting her weapon and insinuating she was less than a lady, he even got along with her okay. He pretty much had the run of the place and when no one was paying attention, he read the case files. He didn't care if they were current, cold, or solved, he learned from all of them. They were like puzzles or equations with components missing. And he started analyzing them from both sides: What elements was the FBI missing in their equation to resolve a case and what elements did they find to solve a case. On the other side, what elements did the criminal miss to get caught, or, as in the cold case, what made them successful. He read, analyzed, understood, and remembered. He learned.

It was during one of these office visits he heard the recording. Agent Burke and Neal were working on some case and were playing a voice recording when he walked in. He guessed Neal had seen something in his face because he had asked,

"What's wrong, Damon?"

"Th…. that voice…. It sounds like…. kinda like…."

Now Agent Burke was alert. "Like who, Damon?"

"Like the voice that identified himself as an agent, you know, at the door…" Damon stated apprehensively.

Agent Burke and Neal had looked at each other with…. alarm, concern, worry? Damon wasn't sure what look they exchanged.

Agent Burke queried him, "Are you sure, Damon? Let me play it again, listen carefully. You have to be sure." He played the recording again.

Damon had known what he wanted, a positive ID for the witness stand. He listened carefully. "Sir, it sounds like him, but…." He hesitated, "Can I sit on a witness stand and positively ID him? No, I can't. It sounds like him, I think it's him. But he was on the other side of the door, a distance away. I… I'm sorry."

Agent Burke let out a breath, "Alright Damon. But it does at least give us something to work with. You did good. Now, why don't you let Neal and I work on this. Please shut the door on your way out."

Damon left, but he was a little worried, he didn't like the look the two had exchanged. Who did the voice belong to? Neither one of them would tell him.

_After Damon left, Peter and Neal had discussed the man behind the voice. He had had the power to find Damon if he had been put in the system. He had had the power to find him in White Collar. It was by sheer luck he hadn't. But he was missing, and they continued their search for him with new interest. But Damon could not positively identify him. Unless they had other evidence, even if they found him, he could not be questioned about Damon. To question him would let him know Damon existed, putting Damon in danger. Both agreed Damon's safety was the highest priority._

***WC***

Damon continued his reminiscing. Sometimes when he was out and about, he played the hustler's tables. He loved Three-card Monte. He would observe first, familiarizing himself with the con's style, and then he would step up for the play. They thought he'd be an easy mark, as young as he was, but they didn't know his Caffrey blood or training. As long as they played fair, he could follow the lady, the trick was to know when they were going to make their move, then get out. He won more than he lost by paying attention to detail.

He had even successfully palmed the lady a few times himself, but he made sure they were inexperienced hustlers first, as was he. He never played the marks; he knew Agent Burke wouldn't approve of coning innocent people. He coned the cons. He didn't see anything wrong with that. He needed the money. He was building up his stash for when…

***WC***

Weekends were the best, especially when both Agent and Mrs. Burke were home. The three of them, well four, Satch often went too, would often go for walks. Usually to the park, but also sometimes they'd walk down Madison Ave, or other streets crowded with galleries and other interesting places. Since Damon had the run of the streets during weekday afternoons, it wasn't so exciting where they went, but that they went, it was almost like they were a…. Damon shook his head, no, don't go there.

***WC***

Often Agent Burke would challenge Damon to a game of basketball out back, he had a cement slab and a hoop set up out there. Damon wasn't into sports, well parkour, but not team sports. He was not very good at basketball. Damon laughed at himself, 'not very good' was an understatement! He sucked! But it was fun playing with Agent Burke, he didn't care if Damon couldn't shoot, it was just about the fun. It wasn't unusual for Agent Burke to suddenly grab him around the waist in the middle of a play and lift him up so he could put the ball in the hoop. It was kind of cheating, but could you really call it cheating if the opponent helped you? Yeah, he had fun playing with Agent Burke, as long as he didn't tickle him!

Damon thought back to the day Agent Burke found out he was ticklish…

***WC***

He had been running through the house, as usual, and Agent Burke had grabbed at him to slow him down, nothing unusual, but that time he missed his mark and accidently tickled Damon. Damon had laughed and jumped away.

Agent Burke had cocked his head to one side, "Oh, you're ticklish, are you?" Damon shook his head no.

"I think you're lying to me." Damon had vigorously shaken his head no.

Then Agent Burke had grabbed him and tickled him, making him laugh hard. "That's what you get for lying to me!"

When he was released, Damon had run away a few steps and turned around. Agent Burke was standing there with a big grin on his face. He had charged him, to tickle him, to get retribution. Yeah, like he had a prayer against the big man, he knew he didn't, he just wasn't done playing. Agent Burke had easily countered him and as he gently body-slammed him to the floor, he dropped to his knees and tortured his belly unrelentingly until he squealed for mercy.

He stopped when Mrs. Burke came into the room, hands on hips, pretending to be mad. "I know you boys are not wrestling in my house!"

Damon had quickly risen to his knees beside Agent Burke and, in unison; they both cried "No, Ma'am!"

She quickly left the room, and Damon and Agent Burke and turned to each other smiling and did a fist bump.

_El had to run from the room; to see her husband kneeling beside Damon, acting just like Damon, just like a 12 year old kid! She had to leave before she burst out laughing!_

Problem was, both Agent and Mrs. Burke now considered his belly and ribs a playground. Well, Mrs. Burke always hugged him after she tickled him and he didn't mind that at all!

***WC***

His thoughts turned to Mrs. Burke. He really liked her, almost from the first day. She just had a way about her, always bright and cheerful, always in an optimistic mood. When he or Neal did something to drive Agent Burke crazy, she was there to calm and relax him, to save either one of them from his wrath. He thought about the book reports, sentence structure and grammar were boring. He loved doing math once he got into it, but the rules of writing were a pain. He was grateful Mrs. Burke was his teacher for writing; she was always so encouraging and positive, kind of like his mom was….

***WC***

Damon remembered that as the cold settled in and the holiday decorations when up, he had withdrawn indoors. He was from Texas, this was his first New York winter and it chilled him to the bone. But the decorations chilled him even deeper. He had thought he was over her death, but the decorations reminded him too much of their last days together. Agent Burke would give him a ride to the library on his way to work, and Mrs. Burke would try to pick him up to take him home, but being the holiday season, her business was busy and she couldn't always make it. On those days he walked looking down, avoiding the decorations as much as he could until he got to the safety of home.

The Burkes had noticed something was wrong and asked him, but he had blamed it on the cold, refusing to admit the real problem.

Then one afternoon he had gone downstairs…. Mrs. Burke had started decorating the house. He had turned and fled back upstairs.

_When El saw him turn pale and run back upstairs, it finally dawned on her what his problem was and chided herself for her insensitivity. He never seemed to mourn his mother's death, so she hadn't even thought about the fact that she had died between Christmas and New Year's. A time when all the decorations are still up, the pressure of Christmas preparations is over, and the holiday spirit is in full bloom. Like many, his mother had had the whole week off and she and her son would have been thoroughly enjoying the time together. _

El followed Damon upstairs.

Damon had run back to his room and thrown himself on his bed, his only safe place left. A few minutes later, Mrs. Burke had followed him into his room and sat on the bed beside him. He immediately sat up and tried to wipe away his tears, he did not want to look like a sissy in front of her. She had put her arm around him.

"I'm sorry, Damon. I wasn't thinking."

"Why are you sorry? You haven't done anything wrong!" Damon said in a concerned voice.

She very gently responded, "Yes I did Damon, I should have realized how much this first Christmas would affect you."

Damon was trying to hold back the tears, "Why? Why does it bother me? It's been a whole year! Nothing else has bothered me."

She put both arms around him and held him tight, kissing the top of his head then resting her cheek where the kiss had been. "Damon, nothing else has been around to remind you of her. Your whole world has changed. But now the holiday season is here to remind you of your last days together. It has only been a year, which is not enough time to heal. Each year will be better, but the first year is always the worst."

Damon had started crying again, mourning his loss. She had grabbed a handful of Kleenexes from the night stand to hand him and then wrapped her arms back around him, holding him to her as tight as she could.

"Tell you what we're going to do Damon. This year we will not put up any decorations in our home so you have a safe place to retreat. And we will have just a small Christmas celebration. Will that be better?"

"But that's not fair to you," he sniveled.

She gave a small laugh, trying to cheer him up, "But it **is** fair, we want you to be happy. When you're happy, it makes us happy. Okay?"

"Just a small Christmas?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes, just the three of us."

Damon was feeling a little better, between the comfort of her arms, and her kind words it was hard not to. After a couple more minutes he asked,

"And Neal, too?"

Her bright cheerful laugh came back. "And Neal too!" _She wondered how Peter would take that. Oh, well, one problem at a time._

"Thank you, Ma'am." He was feeling much better.

"Now just give me 20, no make that 30 minutes to be on the safe side, to put things away, and then it will be safe for you to come downstairs."

"Yes Ma'am." He thought she was the greatest.

She gave him one last big hug and a kiss on top of his head, then left to go put the decorations back in their boxes and return them to the basement for next year.

***WC***


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin. : Criminal Minds is the property of CBS, the actors, producers, and writers of the show.

**Claimer:** Damon is mine

**AN: **A special thanks to peppe1951 for bete'ing all my DAMON II chapters, and her encouragement and input to help keep my story going.

**DAMON II** (5)

*** She gave him one last big hug and a kiss on top of his head, then left to go put the decorations back in their boxes and return them to the basement for next year. ***

Although it was a big time of the year for Burke Premier Events, he noticed she was doing more and more of her event planning from the house, using her phone to coordinate. He also noticed she was delegating more of the responsibilities to her underlings. He wanted to tell her he was fine, to go, to take care of her business, but he couldn't bring himself to say it. On those days when she had to leave, his depression would start setting in…. When she was there, she wouldn't allow it. She always found something for him to do or told him some happy story, or just gave him a much needed hug to keep him from spiraling.

Mrs. Burke did not let Damon hibernate in the house through the holiday season, as much as he tried to. She made him go on walks with her, not to the highly decorative places, but the lightly decorated ones. She kept him close, kept up a happy banter, made him smile in spite of himself. He knew what she was doing, and he was grateful. Maybe, thanks to her, the season wouldn't be so bad next year….

***WC***

He fondly remembered Christmas day. They had all agreed on a small celebration, one present from each to each, except Damon. He was not expected to give any presents since he was not able to go to a store to shop. Mrs. Burke had to push to get him to go for walks, shopping was not even considered.

Damon had chosen to sit to the side while the adults exchanged gifts; he was not really in the mood. All gifts were wrapped in solid colored shiny bright paper, no season reminding prints. Damon was overwhelmed by the extent that they had gone to avoid upsetting him. But the enjoyment they had in exchanging gifts did rub off on him, and by the time they were done and called him over to join them so he could open his, he was in a better mood and smiling.

First he opened his present from Agent Burke; it was two tickets to the New York Giants / Dallas Cowboys game in New Jersey on January 1. Damon wasn't that much into sports, but he did enjoy watching them with Agent Burke because Agent Burke liked them. To go together to a game he thought would be awesome!

Agent Burke had smiled at him, "You know one of those tickets is for me."

Damon had laughed, "You know we'll be rooting against each other!" He was, after all, from Texas.

"Well, that way, one of us will leave happy!" He grabbed Damon, quick tickle and then a hug. Damon actually hugged him back.

"Thank you, Sir!"

_Peter preferred baseball, but decided the spring season was too far away, he wanted to do something with Damon now. Damon had told him that Texans were more partial to football then baseball, so Peter figured the Giants / Cowboys game would be a perfect first game for Damon. _

Then he had opened Neal's gift, a set of watercolors to include palette and paper. Damon froze, he had been speechless; how did Neal know if he ever painted again, he wanted to try watercolors? And an image of a painting he had been thinking about doing was in his head….

Neal was worried about Damon's apparent lack of reaction, "I know you said you didn't want to paint, but, well, I heard that you really liked Gideon's collection and since neither Stephen nor I had ever used watercolors, then I thought it might be a medium that's just yours."

Damon had looked up then, running his hand over his treasure, "I…. I have been thinking about a painting with watercolors." He again pictured the forming image. He grinned. "Now, when, and if, I'm ready, I have what I need. Thank you, Neal!"

Neal beamed; he had been worried how Damon would take the gift. "And I have an extra easel at home. I'll bring it next time I come to visit!"

Then it was Mrs. Burke's turn, he opened her present. It was a thick sketch pad and a set of colored sketching pencils. Again he froze, how do these people know?

Now it was El's time to be uneasy, "Damon? I just thought you might like them…."

Damon had looked up then, nervous, "I…. I have something for you guys…. I didn't know if you would like them or not. They're not very good…."

They had all looked at him expectantly, curious as to what he was talking about. He jumped up and ran upstairs to his room, returning with three pocket folders. He handed Neal the blue folder because of his blue eyes, Mrs. Burke got the yellow folder because of her sunny disposition and Agent Burke got the red one because, well that's what was left of the primary colors and these where the three primary people in his life. He knew they wouldn't understand the meaning.

Neal spoke up, "Primaries?"

They grinned at each other, yeah, Neal understood, he was an artist.

Damon stood anxiously waiting while they opened their folders. All the folders contained a black and white sketch; they each pulled theirs slowly out of the protecting pocket and admired what they saw….

Peter held a sketch of himself sitting at the dining room table, chin resting on first two fingers and thumb, middle and index fingers running up his cheek, studiously regarding FBI files in his other hand, more files are spread on the table. The detailing was exquisite. You could see his wrinkled brow, slight crow's feet, and the texture of his hair with a few hairs out of place, the wood grain in the table, almost read the titles of the books on the shelf in the background.

Neal had a caricature of himself with the backend of a man on one side. Neal was lifting the man's wallet with an 'I'm oh so ever innocent' look on his face. A police officer is standing on the other side's upper corner, back to Neal, unaware that Neal is picking the man's pocket.

When Agent Burke had seen that sketch he turned to Damon, "Did you draw that from memory?"

This got a big laugh from everyone except Neal who feigned insult, "Peter!"

Damon held his breath while Mrs. Burke studied her sketch of herself. It was beautiful with her rosy cheeks, bright smile and sparkling eyes, but unlike most head shots where the top of the head is near the top of the drawing, the top of her head was about 1/3 of the way down. She turned to look away, then surprised, looked back at the sketch and studied it. She tried to look away again, and looked back, confused. She tried it a few more times on purpose, studying the sketch direct, and trying to from an indirect view. It was there, she knew it was there, but you could only see it when you weren't trying to. There was an almost imperceptible halo above her head. She looked up at Damon smiling.

She saw it! It worked! Damon had had to redo that sketch a few times to get it right. His Caffrey smile beamed.

They all commented on Damon's talent and they all pleaded with him not to hide it. He touched the sketching supplies that Mrs. Burke had given him and said maybe he would try. But he did feel good, they liked their presents. And he loved his presents.

***WC***

After Christmas day, the closer he got to 'the day' his emotions really started spiraling. For the rest of that week, Mrs. Burke would not allow Damon to be left alone, if she could not be with him, she made sure either Agent Burke and/or Neal was. On 'the day', he spent the majority of the day in her arms. She talked to him, read to him, or just held him as he silently fought his own demons in his head.

***WC***

On January 1st it all changed. He woke up and remembered it was Game Day! His excitement and enthusiasm so contrasted the last few weeks it was contagious. Agent Burke had even jokingly threatened to us his hand cuffs to slow him down. Damon laughed and responded that he would just pick them, which of course resulted in one of Agent Burke's classic dumfounded looks, and ended with a tickle session for his audacity.

When they arrived at the Met-Life Stadium in East Rutherford, NJ, Damon could not believe the crowds. It was packed with thousands of fans with one intent and that was to see the game. Agent Burke had kept his hand tight on Damon's shoulder, it reminded Damon of those first weeks, but he didn't mind, he did not want to get separated! The air was electric with the crowd's enthusiasm.

They worked their way to their seats and Damon looked around at the crowd. He saw a lot of father/son(s) teams scattered around. He looked up at Agent Burke and he decided this one time he would play pretend. He would pretend that he and Agent Burke were one of those teams. He was still a child, he still had an imagination, and he enjoyed his fantasy in his head.

Damon enjoyed the game much more than he had expected. Agent Burke had laughed at him because he cheered for both teams, it didn't matter who scored, he just cheered. The Giants were Agent Burke's team so he cheered. The Cowboys were his team, he cheered. Even some of the fans around him noticed his two-sided loyalty and smiled at his childish exuberance.

_Peter had also enjoyed himself immensely. He wasn't sure how much Damon would enjoy the game and was pleasantly surprised. He planned on buying Yankee tickets for Damon's birthday and wondered when the NY Yankees were playing the Texas Rangers…._

And yes, one of them went home happy. Of course, Damon didn't care who won, either team was a victory with him.*****

***WC***

Damon gave a slight shiver on his rooftop perch. He would have to leave soon; a chilling breeze had sprung up….

***WC***

After the first of the year, the decorations started coming down and Damon started venturing out again. By the end of January, he was back to his normal self, although his outdoor activities were still curtailed by the cold. Oh he hated the cold! But he was slowly adjusting to it and even got in a couple snowball fights with Agent Burke. Well, maybe snow could be fun….

He reminisced on the Burkes, who had taught him a lot. He remembered when Mrs. Burke had told him that he could call them 'Elizabeth', or 'El', and 'Peter'. He had been shocked!

"Ma'am, that would be disrespectful!"

She was confused, "It's not disrespectful if we tell you it's alright. You call Neal by his first name."

Damon didn't know how to explain, he just couldn't call them by their first name! "But Neal has always been Neal, it's the only name I've ever heard him called. He's young and you and Agent Burke are…. are…."

She laughed. "Are what? Old?"

That got Damon blushing, it's not what he meant, not exactly, "It would be disrespectful; that's all. I…. I wasn't raised that way."

She had let it drop, thank goodness.

_Peter had smiled on that conversation, remembering back to that first day when Damon had called him some extremely disrespectful names. Neal had been right; Damon's mother had raised him well. _

***WC***

Damon considered several of his other sources of learning, and now he thought about his other teacher, his secret teacher, Neal Caffrey. Neal might not be his father emotionally, but he did have his genes. The Caffrey blood ran strong in him.

He briefly speculated about his other half. He was only half Caffrey, what genes did he acquire from his mother's side? He knew she was smart. She was a paralegal but she knew enough to be a lawyer. She didn't go to college because she was a single mom and because…. Well, she lived under a false ID, she couldn't go to school, or take the legal board, or anything else to send up alarm signals on her identity. She didn't even have a home computer because she said people can be traced through them.

Damon thought back, trying to remember the extent of her secrecy. She actually went a little overboard to just be hiding from the father of a child that he didn't even know existed. Why would Neal make any attempt to find her?

Stephen had asked her once about her family, 'no one you would want to know', was her answer. Was she hiding from her own family? Why? What was the other half of his genetic nature?

He shook his head; that was a dead end. He thought back to his time spent with Neal…

***WC***

***Author's note: **I might make some changes after the actual game is played on Jan 1st. I saw the upcoming game online and could not resist entering it into my story, it was too perfect! P.S. I hope the Cowboys win. ;-)

I will not make any changes, the Cowboys lost. Agent Burke was happy, not me. LOL


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin. : Criminal Minds is the property of CBS, the actors, producers, and writers of the show.

**Claimer:** Damon is mine

**AN: **A special thanks to peppe1951 for beteing all my DAMON II chapters, and her encouragement and input to help keep my story going.

**DAMON II** (6)

*** He shook his head; that was a dead end. He thought back to his time spent with Neal… ***

He had been pissed at Neal for a couple weeks after he ratted him out on the school deal. His time on the streets had taught him that 'you snitch, you die'. It was a very simple rule. And Neal had snitched on him. He knew why Neal did; he knew Neal really had no choice, but….

Mrs. Burke had called him on it, "Damon, you know he only did it for your own good!"

So he started playing chess with Neal again and they started mending the rift. The chess games had gotten boring. The problem was that neither one knew the other was holding back, trying to be nice to the 'lesser' opponent. When no one is trying to win, it leeches the excitement out of the game. But someone put a bug in Neal's ear, and Damon knew the source of that! Well, maybe not all ratting is really a bad thing….

One of their Sunday sessions, Neal turned the black side toward Damon and chided him, "I thought you would pick up the game a little faster than this. Your strategy techniques are lacking in proper planning."

Damon remembered his reaction and laughed at himself. Okay, he was just a dumb kid, and he fell for it hook, line, and sinker! He got angry and went on the attack! He would show Neal strategy techniques! Neal had underestimated Damon's abilities and held his own expertise back just a little too long and then he let his true finesse in the game show. But he was a little too late to recover and Damon beat him.

When the game was over, they paused and gaped at each other, for the first time realizing just how good the other one was. Then both burst out in that Caffrey smile.

"You know Damon; you need to quit hiding things."

"Oh, you're one to talk!"

_Both Peter and El had laughed at that little exchange._

But after that, their games were challenging and exciting. Damon had his unconventional strategies, but Neal knew how to think outside the box. Neal still won a little more than Damon, but Damon thought it was just a matter of time…..

Even the one time Neal had messed up and called him 'son' had turned out alright. They had been playing chess and Damon had frozen in mid-play and very quietly, not wanting to insult Neal, but needing to get a point across,

"I wish you wouldn't call me that."

Neal had looked up, understanding Damon's statement. _Neal thought now was a good time as any to broach the subject. _"I know Damon, and I apologize. I know we are too close in age and, well, to tell the truth, we are even closer in maturity levels, for you to ever see me that way." _Besides, Neal thought, he had other plans for Damon. _"But we are still blood. We can be like, let's say, brothers."

Damon had looked up pleased, thankful Neal understood. "Hey, Bro!"

_Yep, it was that Caffrey smile in stereo and, of course, they bumped fists._

Damon learned to love his Sunday's with Neal, and from time to time the Burkes would leave to go do their own thing. Occasionally they would go out on Saturday night for some 'alone' time and Neal would come over and spend the night.

And some of the best times with Neal were while they were alone. That's when he got to learn.

Sometimes getting Neal to teach him something new was like pulling teeth, like lock picking. He remembered the conversation….

"You're going to get me sent back to prison! I'm not going to teach you how to pick a lock!"

"I already know how, the locksmith taught me; I just want to learn more."

"Peter didn't mention a locksmith."

"He moved about 4 months before… you know."

"Well, if you already know how…"

The locksmith was not one of Damon's assigned 'instructors', but Damon didn't exactly lie. He had cajoled the locksmith into teaching him a few simple techniques. Damon was a Caffrey and he could talk his way into most anything he wanted and some of the easiest people to con were cons. Neal could always somehow be talked into teaching him.

Damon loved to get Neal to brag about the scams he'd pulled, well, he never **admitted** pulling them, he always told of ones he'd **heard** of…. But by just describing the various cons, Damon learned.

But Damon's favorite lessons were the heists….

Damon's first 'heist' was the Belenky Brothers, a small jewelry gallery on Grand St. Agent Burke had solved a theft there awhile back and the perpetrators where in jail. He had visited the gallery and evaluated the set up to see how it should have been done. Damon had an analytical mind and wanted to consider the possibilities. Damon had shown Neal a sketch of the gallery with annotations as to where the former thieves had made their mistakes and his ideas for a successful robbery. He wanted Neal's input as to whether his plans were feasible or not.

Neal was visibly upset, "What are you thinking, Damon? Do you plan on robbing them?"

Damon had laughed, "No way Neal! Heists are interesting, like puzzles, all the pieces need to fit. I just want to know if I understand the basic parameters of a correctly executed one."

Neal had been to the gallery and saw a problem, so he gave in, "When you cased the Gallery, you missed the hidden camera right there." He pointed to the spot.

"I didn't case it, I just looked around. I'm not really going to rob it." Damon replied defensively.

"It's called 'casing'. I don't care what your excuse is."

"Whatever…. Well, what's my grade?" He was used to be graded by the Burkes and was kind of in the habit.

"I'll give you a 'B'."

Damon had smiled a B wasn't bad for his first 'heist'.

Neal smiled back, "B is for 'busted'. That camera will send you straight to jail."

He then proceeded to show Damon how to avoid the camera and escape clean.

A couple weeks later Damon showed Neal plans for the Aaron Faber Gallery on 5th Ave. It was a little higher risk then the first. Damon had cased the gallery more scrupulously this time, paying close attention to details.

Since Neal hadn't been in that particular gallery, he had no tidbits of prior knowledge to pass on, but he did notice the small opening being used for the entry point.

"Damon, that is a really small opening; you must be planning on someone slim to pull this off." Neal wondered if Damon was getting too personal with the robberies.

"You're skinny enough to slide through there."

Neal wasn't sure if he was….

Periodically, Damon would bring Neal other theft plans for Neal's input. Neal was at first very nervous about teaching Damon the secrets of a thief, but since he displayed no intentions of using this data, Neal fell into the lure of teaching an apt student. Damon never planned on using what he learned; he just wanted knowledge for the sake of knowledge.

_Neal noticed Damon was a quick study on all things Caffrey, and sometimes he would imagine the team he and Damon could make. They would be unstoppable! Then he'd shake his head, no, that's not the life he wanted for Damon. A life on the run, in prison, worse, no he wanted Damon to have a better life then he had had. That's why he was with the Burke's, to give him that chance._

***WC***

The roof top perch was getting cold, the sun was no longer giving any heat and the wind was starting to bite. Damon checked his watch. Oh, well, he was going to be late, again. He scurried down the fire escape and headed home.

Agent Burke was already home when he got there. Great.

"Why are you late this time, Damon?"

"I was just thinking."

Peter frowned, "Thinking? And with all that thinking you couldn't think to look at your watch. I've tried to tell you it's more than just a GPS tracker."

"I know, sorry Sir. Do you want me to go to the dungeon?"

"No, it's too late now, dinner's almost ready. You get to spend all afternoon tomorrow there, that way I can be sure you won't be late. Get cleaned up for dinner." Peter wasn't worried or agitated; he just wished the boy would watch his time a little closer.

Damon ran upstairs to get ready for dinner. He wondered if Agent Burke realized that he was almost done cleaning the dungeon. He speculated if he should tell him, but he was concerned what punishment Agent Burke would use to replace the cleaning.

***WC***

Damon was getting worried about his stash, he only had a little over $400 and he would need a lot more to implement his plan once his case was resolved. It was still too cold for the hustler's tables to come out; they wouldn't appear for at least a month or more. Since he had identified that voice, well Agent Burke and Neal identified it and they never told him who it was, things have seemed to get more active with the two of them. He didn't know if it had anything to do with him or not, but what if they solved his case and he had so little money….

He was walking down Madison Ave. and his mind started wandering, wondering how much each passerby might have in his wallet…. He scolded himself. No, you cannot pick pockets while living with the Burkes! But he needed more money. He walked on with an ongoing battle in his head.

Then he saw it. It was perfect. He glanced up to see who was going to cross his path and saw a middle age kindly looking gentleman who looked like money. He waited to time it just right and as the man almost reached him, he stepped in front and bent over to pick up the penny. The man walked into him, knocking him over,

"Whoa, boy! Are you alright?" He reached out a helping hand to help Damon up. "You need to be more careful!"

Damon was all smiles as he pointed to the penny, "It's heads up! That's good luck!"

The gentleman picked up the penny and handed it to him then brushed some of the dirt off Damon from his tumble. "Well, it's not good luck if you get run over. Be careful now." He liked the boy, he had a sweet smile.

"Thank you, Sir!" Damon took off and disappeared into a nearby alley and hid behind a dumpster to check the contents of the gentleman's wallet. Over $500! That would more than double his money! It would be enough to start! Then the guilt hit him. What was he doing? He wasn't supposed to do this while he still lived with the Burkes. How could he face them? But he needed the money. Again his mind fought itself.

He ran out of the alley heading in the direction the gentleman had gone, looking, looking…. There he was! He ran up to him, "Sir, you dropped your wallet back there when you helped me. I didn't think I was going to find you."

The gentleman was surprised, he touched his pocket, and sure enough his wallet was gone. He accepted the wallet from Damon, checked his money and saw it was all there. He started to pull a $20 bill out to give Damon as a reward, but the boy had disappeared into the crowd. He smiled, what a nice honest young man!

Damon disappeared into another alley and ducked behind another dumpster. What was wrong with him? He needed that money! He had it clean. It was his, in his hands. Why had he returned it? He punched the dumpster several times, berating himself for his stupidity in returning the wallet.

***WC***

Unbeknownst to Damon, Mozzie had seen the whole thing, well almost the whole thing.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin. : Criminal Minds is the property of CBS, the actors, producers, and writers of the show.

**Claimer:** Damon is mine

**AN: **A special thanks to peppe1951 for beteing all my DAMON II chapters, and her encouragement and input to help keep my story going.

**DAMON II** (7)

*** Unbeknownst to Damon, Mozzie had seen the whole thing, well almost the whole thing. ***

He saw Damon lift the wallet, go into the alley and hide behind the dumpster, and then he saw Damon return the wallet. He did not know if Damon had kept any of the contents or not.

Mozzie knew who Damon was; he had seen him several times running the streets. Mozzie knew about Damon, so identifying him wasn't hard. He looked just like a young Neal. But Damon had never met Mozzie. Damon was kept away from Neal's world to protect him just in case whoever was after him shadowed Neal for information. Damon knew about Mozzie, but all he knew was he was a short bald man, so he never noticed him.

Mozzie was torn about what to do. He could tell Damon was one of them, a con, and he did not believe in telling on his own kind. But he also knew Neal wanted a different life for Damon. Why, he didn't know. But Neal was his friend and that's what Neal wanted. Neal wanted Damon to live with the Suit. Moz felt it would not be an easy life for a natural born con to live with a suit.

But Neal was his friend, and Neal had asked him to report to him if he saw anything amiss with Damon.

That evening when Neal arrived at his loft apartment he found Moz drinking his wine, again. "Why are you here Moz?"

"Because you have a better wine selection then I do." Moz hesitated a moment, then went on, "Neal, remember when you asked me to tell you if I saw anything questionable with Damon?"

Neal was instantly alarmed, "What happened, Moz?"

"Well, I regretfully report that I saw him lift a wallet. But, that's not the stupid part," he hesitated. "He returned it."

Neal poured himself a glass of wine and sat down by Moz. "Tell me everything."

***WC***

Now Neal was torn about what to do. A part of him was proud that Damon had make the lift so smoothly and gotten away so clean. He wondered how much pickpocketing Damon might be doing, if he had done more; he sure was secretive about it. Why did he return the wallet? Did he take money out first? If so, the mark would remember him and then….

What if the mark reported him and Peter found out? Peter would not take it well. Neal groaned; Damon had to stop. That is not the life he wanted for the boy. His plan had been working so well, and now this! What if Peter rejected Damon? No, Peter wouldn't totally reject him over one incident, would he? Wouldn't Peter try to work with Damon like he did with him? But what if Peter didn't want to keep him…

Neal made his mind up. Damon had to be stopped, and Peter was the only one who could do it. But last time he told on Damon it had put a temporary rift between them, he did not want to squeal on Damon again.

There was only one way to fix this….

***WC***

The first Sunday that the Burkes left Neal and Damon alone, Neal raised the subject.

"Damon, Moz saw you lift that wallet."

Damon looked up from the chess game they were playing, his eyes guarded. "What wallet?"

Neal winced; did that mean there was more than one? "Damon, he saw you. Don't try to deny it."

Damon studied Neal, what did he want, he returned the wallet, didn't his snitch see that? "What if I did?"

Neal saw Damon was not going to be cooperative, but he had to try, "He saw you lift the wallet, and then return it. Did you take anything from the wallet?"

"What, your snitch couldn't tell? It's none of your business what I do." Damon sure hoped Neal wasn't going to try and play 'daddy' with him, because that was not going to work.

"Damon, whether you like it or not, it is my business. We're blood, right? I care about what happens to you." Neal could see Damon was rapidly shutting down, closing him out.

For several minutes they sat staring at each other, each wondering what the other's next move was. Finally Neal broke the silence,

"Why Damon? Why? You don't need money; Peter and El give you everything you need. Why did you steal it?"

Damon was not about ready to tell Neal, or anyone else for that matter, why he needed money. They would ruin his plans; they would prevent him from leaving and send him to CPS. He decided silence was his best option.

Neal tried again, "Is this some kind of game you're playing? To see if you can do it? If so, Damon, it is a dangerous game. What if you got caught? What if you got arrested and they ran your fingerprints? Damon, I don't know if Peter has enough power to protect you if you get caught doing something foolish. Sure he might be able to get them to drop charges, but what if they run your prints through the system?"

Neal ran his hand through his hair. Damon had retreated, he eyes were cold.

"You have to tell Peter."

Damon could not believe what Neal had just said. "What?"

"You have to tell Peter. He needs to know. Maybe he can talk some sense into you, I'm not getting anywhere."

Damon eyes were starting to spark, "You want **me** to tell Agent Burke that I stole a wallet? **You**?"

Neal saw the anger, "Yes, Damon. You need to."

Damon jumped up, barely controlling his rage, "You of all people are telling me to admit I committed a crime! How many have you admitted to, Neal? **You**, with all your alleged this and alleged that. When are you going to tell Agent Burke what you have done? **You**, who never admit to anything, what **me** to admit to stealing one lousy wallet! And I even returned the damned thing!"

Neal was trying to stay calm, trying to be his cool suave self, he slowly rose; he didn't like Damon standing over him as angry as he was. "Damon, if you don't, I will have to." He didn't want to say that, didn't want to do it, but Damon had to be saved from himself.

Damon lost control; he was in a frenzy, "YOU FUCKING SNITCH!"

"language…."

Damon did a back armed swing on the chess set sending pieces flying everywhere, wishing it was Neal's face instead. He fought to control his language, _not in the Burke's home, not in Mrs. Burke's home_, he went on, "I am not going to rat myself out! You do what you have to do, but don't ever come here to see me again! You rat on me, we're through!" He ran upstairs to his room, slamming the door behind him.

Neal slumped back to the couch, head in his hands. That did not go well at all. Damon was right, who was he to tell anyone to turn themselves in.

Damon regretted going to his room as soon as he slammed the door. He should have gone to the basement; the punching bag was in the basement. But he was not going to walk by Neal to get there. He went to his closet; he had some old clothes hanging against the outside wall for times like this. He started beating the wall with the thin layer of clothes to offer some protection for his knuckles.

***WC***

Neal had picked up the chess pieces and gotten himself together by the time the Burkes got back home. He put on his best smile and greeted them.

Peter looked around, "Where's Damon?" Usually Damon was at the door to greet them with a grin.

Neal felt a need to hide the truth, "He wasn't feeling good. He went to his room." That was not technically a lie….

El was immediately concerned, "I need to go check on him." She headed for the stairs.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry, El, he wasn't that sick. He'll be alright." He wanted to discourage her to give Damon plenty of time to cool down.

But it didn't stop Elizabeth as he had hoped, so Neal quickly said his good-byes and got out while the getting was good.

***WC***

Damon had managed to cool down some; the pain in his fists always helped him regain control. He was still angry, but he had it under control. He was sitting under the table in the back of the bedroom, contemplating his predicament.

_Neal was going to snitch on him, again. He had returned the wallet! Why was Neal ratting on him?_ He berated himself for the hundredth time for not keeping the money_, if he was going to be in trouble anyway, at least he could have had something to show for it. No, Agent Burke would make him give him the money. Damn Neal! What if Agent Burke kicked him out or turned him in to the police? He knew he did not like thieves, and even though he had returned the wallet, Agent Burke would still see him as a thief. And Mrs. Burke…. He did not even want to think how she would look at him. Damn he should have kept the wallet! Damn Neal!_

While his emotions where in torment, he heard the Burkes come home. Neal was going to squeal on him. He got up and got in bed, maybe if he pretended he was asleep. Maybe if he pretended he didn't feel good. Pretend hell! He was feeling sick to his stomach.

El gently knocked and entered Damon's room and found him in bed. She went over and lightly ran her fingers through his hair and felt his forehead for a temperature. Then she gently asked how he was feeling.

Damon knew by her actions Neal hadn't ratted yet, well, not to her anyway. He might be downstairs right now telling Agent Burke. So he told Mrs. Burke he was feeling just a little sick and thought a nap would help him. Not exactly a lie, his stomach was in knots.

She kissed his forehead and went back downstairs. He almost lost it then, knowing that would be the last time she would ever kiss him like that. After Neal ratted on him, she would never do it again. Damn Neal! He hated Neal. He fed the hate.

***WC***

They made him go the supper, he tried to get out of it, but El checked his temperature again and since he wasn't running one, they made him eat.

Some people, and even animals, after living with an impoverished diet for a period of time like Damon did during his six months on his own become food obsessed, even to the point of becoming obese. Damon was the opposite. He had been too hungry too many times and it was just a way of life, almost like he was immune to hunger pains. Food was just not that important to him. He enjoyed eating when he ate, but he didn't care if he ate. Or maybe it was the 'closet' the killed his hunger….

The Burkes had to constantly stay on him to make sure he ate enough, he was still too skinny. So since he wasn't running a fever or showing any signs of real sickness, they made him come to dinner. He knew as soon as he went downstairs that Neal hadn't said anything to them, yet. Maybe Neal was going to give him a chance to turn himself in first. _Fat chance of that_, he thought.

Peter and El both saw right away there was something wrong. El did think it was because he wasn't feeling good, but Peter was more adept at reading Damon. Damon refused to look at him, refused to make eye contact, but Peter could see the tension in him and correctly surmised Damon was angry. But Damon wasn't talking and Peter knew by experience when Damon was that mad, it was best to give him cool down time and then he would open up.

***WC***

The next morning at breakfast, Peter thought Damon was still angry, but Peter was in a hurry, there was a breakthrough in a current case and he had to leave.

Damon was still angry. He had fed the hate, and he felt like a volcano ready to erupt. He knew Neal was going to tell Agent Burke about him at work. He did not go to the library that morning; he wandered the streets lost in troubled thoughts. _Neal thinks I'm just playing a friggin game. He thinks I'm not good enough and that I'll be caught. He, of all people thinks I should confess my crimes to Agent Burke…._

He had wandered into Central Park; it was fairly crowded, he accidently bumped into a few people while his mind was in turmoil….

_I'll show Neal!_

When Damon got through the park and back onto the streets he found an alley to duck into and hid behind a dumpster. He pulled the money out of four wallets, $427, being careful not to look at the owner's ID's. If he saw their names, he would remember them. After that was accomplished he checked the dumpster for a bag of trash, found one, buried the wallets in the bag, and then buried the bag in the dumpster. No one else would profit from his labors.

_That'll show Neal I'm not a friggin amateur! _

He returned home, hid his money in his bedroom, then, still seething he went to the basement to work out on the kick/punching bag, using all four limbs to vent his anger, imagining the bag was Neal. Eventually he burned the anger out, but when El came home, the guilt set in. He sat on the basement couch, head in hands; his brain in turmoil again….

_Why did I steal those wallets! I wasn't going to do that anymore while living in the Burke's home! It's Neal's fault! Damn Neal! But I need the money. Now I have barely enough. The Burkes are going to hate me. Why did I do that? Damn Neal! _And on, and on….


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin. : Criminal Minds is the property of CBS, the actors, producers, and writers of the show.

**Claimer:** Damon is mine

**AN: **A special thanks to peppe1951 for beteing all my DAMON II chapters, and her encouragement and input to help keep my story going.

**DAMON II** (8)

_*** Why did I steal those wallets! I wasn't going to do that anymore while living in the Burke's home! It's Neal's fault! Damn Neal! But I need the money. Now I have barely enough. The Burkes are going to hate me. Why did I do that? Damn Neal! _And on, and on…. ***

***WC***

During a lull in their case at work that day, Peter and Neal were sitting in Peter's office. Peter casually brought up the subject of Damon,

"How did your afternoon with Damon go yesterday?"

Neal smiled his innocent smile, "Fine Peter. Why do you ask?"

"Damon seemed a little upset. Did something happen between you two?

"Why, did Damon say something?" He had already decided he was not going to tell on Damon, he was hoping Damon would tell Peter on his own.

Peter studied Neal, he was acting too innocent. "No Neal. That's the problem. All he says is that he doesn't feel good."

"Well, Peter, maybe he doesn't feel good" Neal wished Peter would drop the subject.

Just then Diana walked in with the files they were waiting for, and the subject of Damon was dropped. Neal was thankful.

***WC***

El was relaxing on the couch with a book when Peter got home from work. He walked over and gave her a quick peck, "Hi Hon. Where's Damon?"

"Hi Hon. He's not home yet."

Peter stiffened. He had checked Damon's tracking data and it said he was home. The boy had better not have removed his watch again….

"Damon!" He hollered up the stairs.

Damon heard him from down in the basement, he heard the anger in his voice. _Neal told. Damn Neal!_ He trudged up the steps and into the dining room, head lowered, barely audible, "Yes, Sir?"

Elizabeth looked up, surprised. "Damon, you're home. How are you feeling today?"

"Not good Ma'am." He was going to play that card as long as he could.

Peter spoke up, "Then what were you doing in the basement?"

"Nothing." He was waiting, waiting for Agent Burke to confront him about the wallet.

El jumped up to go to him and feel his forehead, he did look sick. "You must be coming down with a bug, but still no fever." She hugged him close, "Would you like to lie down till supper's ready?"

"Yes Ma'am." He headed for the stairs, head still down.

Peter was getting suspicious, "Don't you have homework to do?"

Damon stopped, Neal hadn't told on him, yet. "Yes Sir." But he didn't feel like doing homework, math was fun and how could he have fun. _Damn Neal!_

El jumped back into the conversation. "Peter, can't you see he's not feeling good? His homework can wait, let him get some rest."

Peter waved Damon to go on. Peter thought there was more to the story, but he couldn't do anything about it while El was in mother mode. Or maybe he was sick….

El took super up to him that night. She sat with him, trying to get him to eat what she could. He wasn't hungry and had to force down enough to satisfy her.

***WC***

The next night was pretty much a repeat of the same thing. Damon wasn't getting sicker, but he wasn't getting better. El was starting to talk about taking him to a doctor.

***WC***

Toward the end of the workday on Wednesday Peter gave Neal the two-fingered point to come to his office. He stood looking out the window, hands on hips while Neal made himself comfortable,

"I checked Damon's tracking data. He hasn't been to the library all week. Can you explain that?"

"Peter, he's a kid. So what if he misses the library a couple times." Neal did not want to talk about Damon.

Peter turned his head toward Neal. "Even during the holiday season, when he couldn't stand the cold or the decorations, Damon managed to make it to the library every working day." He paused, "What happened on Sunday Neal?"

Neal fiddled with a pen on the desk, acting calm and casual, "What makes you think something happened?"

"Because when El and I left on Sunday Damon was happy and smiling. When we got back he was angry, and now he's in a depression. I can see his knuckles are bruised, but he won't talk, except to say he doesn't feel good. And El is falling for it. What happened, Neal?"

"His knuckles are bruised?" That alerted Neal, he didn't want those hands, those talented hands, damaged.

"Yes Neal, he has a tendency to use his fists when he's angry. Are you going to tell me what happened?"

"Peter, he won't let me visit him anymore if I tell…." Neal pleaded.

Peter placed his hands on the desk, leaning forward almost into Neal's face. "You won't be able to visit him while wearing an orange jumpsuit…."

"Peter! You wouldn't!" Peter stared back with his 'try me' look.

Peter straightened up, frustrated, pacing, "I can't fix what's broke if I don't know what's broken!" He leaned back on the desk. "Talk Neal! Now!"

Neal talked. He told Peter what Mozzie had seen, and that he had tried to get Damon to tell Peter himself.

Peter smirked, "You told Damon to admit to a crime? You?"

Neal looked down at the pen he was flipping around with his fingers. "He didn't take it too well."

"How did you think he would take it?"

Neal saw Peter's anger growing, he correctly surmised why. Peter asked his next question….

"And where did Damon learn how to pickpocket?"

"Peter! He knew how when he arrived here! How do you think he survived for six months on his own? He has several skills."

"And did you help him improve his skills?" Peter growled.

Neal now held his hands in front of him, twirling the pen in both thumbs and forefingers. "I wouldn't do that Peter. I don't want to go back to SuperMax." _Lessons stop now_, he thought.

Peter didn't believe him; he was acting too innocent, too nonchalant. He decided he would address that issue later, right now he had Damon to contend with.

***WC***

By the time Peter arrived home, he had cooled down some, after all the kid did return the wallet. Question was; did he take anything out before he returned it? As soon as he entered the house he bellowed for Damon,

"Damon, get down here now!"

Damon was in his room moping. He heard the controlled anger in Agent Burke's voice. As soon as he did, he realized the other day when he thought Agent Burke was angry was nothing compared to this, Neal had told. _Damn Neal!_ He went downstairs.

"Yes Sir?" His voice was soft, almost shaky. His head was down; he could not look anyone in the eye anymore.

El also heard the anger in Peter's voice. She came out of the kitchen to protest that Damon still felt sick. Peter held up his finger to her, stopping her. Peter never did that unless it was important and he was dead serious. She held back, watching just in case Peter lost his temper with the boy.

"Damon, come here." Peter demanded as he pointed to spot on the floor in front of him. Damon did as commanded.

"Do you have something you want to tell me?" Peter asked when Damon stood in front of him.

Damon stood still, staring at a spot on the floor.

"Damon, you would be better off telling me yourself."

"I…. I…." Damon couldn't say it. Damon quickly wiped a tear that got away, hoping Agent Burke didn't notice.

"Come on Damon. Just say it." He wanted to hear it from Damon, and he knew it was better for Damon if he would confess it.

Damon sounded very defeated when he answered. "I stole a wallet." He paused, "But I returned it." He couldn't look at Agent or Mrs. Burke. He knew this was it, it was over, they hated him and he would be sent away_. It was all Neal's fault! Damn Neal! _

"Did you take anything from the wallet before you returned it?"

Damon was really trying to stop tears from escaping, but occasionally he had to wipe one or the other cheek on his shoulder hoping his actions weren't noticed. Suddenly Damon turned and started running up the stairs saying "I'll be right back."

Peter's anger flared, he was ready to go after him but El stopped him. "Hon, wait. He said he would be right back. It might be important."

Damon did come back, head bowed, and handed Agent Burke the $427 he got from the four wallets.

"You took this from the wallet?"

"No Sir." Barely audible

Peter was confused, "Then where did this come from?"

"The other wallets."

Peter did a good job controlling his voice, "What other wallets?"

"Neal made me mad."

"Explain."

"I stole four more."

Peter kept his voice as even as he could. "Four?" Damon barely nodded. "Did you return those, too?" Damon slowly shook his head.

"Where are they?"

"I threw them in a dumpster."

"Do you know who they belonged too?" He knew with Damon's memory, he would not forget if he knew.

"No, I made sure I didn't look at the ID's"

Peter stood there glaring at the boy, wanting to wring his neck, he counted to ten. He wanted to throttle him, he counted to twenty. He wanted to dump him on Juvenile Authorities and make him their problem, he counted to thirty.

"Go to your room."

"Don't you want me to…?"

"Go to your room and stay there!" Damon ran up the stairs to his room.

After Damon left, Peter stood where he was, running his hand through his hair and thinking. If Damon was his son, he would take his belt to him, but Damon was not his son, he was Neal's son. And when he told Neal about that one close call he'd had, Neal had gone white at the idea of using a belt on Damon. Peter got the impression Neal was anti-corporal punishment. Of course Neal was anti-corporal punishment; he would always be a receiver, never a giver. Peter thought maybe if Neal would have received more spankings in his youth he wouldn't be in his current predicament today. But, even though Neal had never told him any do's or don'ts in handling Damon, Neal was his friend. Neal was his friend and Damon was Neal's son. He did not want to go against his friend's wishes, expressed or implied.

El came up to him, rubbing his arm, relaxing him. "What are you going to do, Hon?"

"I don't know. I have to think about it."

***WC***

Damon stood in his doorway for a long time after going to his room. He was listening, waiting for Agent Burke to follow him. He finally decided he was safe and softly closed his door and went to sit under his table lost in his confusion of thoughts….

_Why did I tell him about the four wallets? Why did I give him the money? Damn Neal! I needed that money. What is wrong with me? Now the Burkes will hate me. Now they will send me away. It's all Neal's fault! Why did I give him the money? He didn't even know about the four wallets. Why did I tell him? It's all Neal's fault! Damn Neal! _

He heard the front door close and crawled out from under his table to look out the window. He saw Agent Burke get in his car and drive away_. Why? He couldn't stand being in the same house as him? He was going to CPS to turn him in? He was going to the police to have him arrested? Why? It was all Neal's fault! Damn Neal! _Damon's brain was in such turmoil that he lost all sense of logic.

Damon quietly crept down the stairway, he didn't have time to pack, he couldn't get to his legitimate stash; it was hidden in the basement. He had to get as far away as possible before Agent Burke came back to get him. He made it to the front door, typed in the alarm code and turned the door knob.

The alarm made him jump back in shock. He froze_. They had reset the code! He was a prisoner again! _

El rushed out of the dining room and got a firm grip on Damon's wrist, she stepped between him and the code box to block his vision while she turned off the alarm and reset it. By then, the phone was ringing….

"That's the security company. Come on." She explained as she pulled him with her to the phone. Damon offered no resistance; it was like he was in a daze. She explained to the security company that all was well, they had reset the code and a family member had forgotten and put in the old code. Once she got them off the phone, she turned to Damon.

"Peter told me something like this might happen. I didn't believe him, but he was right. What is going on in that head of yours, Damon?"

Damon just stood there trying to shrink into nothingness.

"Damon, talk to me." She tried to lift his chin with her free hand to look at him, he resisted but she saw the tears. "Damon…?"

Damon tried to keep the tremor out of his voice as he spoke softly, "Agent Burke is getting the authorities to come pick me up, isn't he?"

El was stunned, "No Damon! No! No one is coming to get you. We are not sending you away." She pulled him to her and wrapped her arms around him.

Now El could barely understand he spoke with such a quiver, "But you hate me, Agent Burke can't even stand to be in the same house…"

"You silly boy. Where do you come up with these notions of yours?" She held him tight. "Our feelings toward you have not changed. What you did was wrong, but that does not change how we feel about you. Peter had to go out on a case tonight. Diana is going undercover and he doesn't trust anyone else to protect her. That is why he left."

"You…. you…. don't hate me?"

"Of course not! I hate what you did, but not you. You will be disciplined for your actions, I don't know how, that is up to Peter, but that is because we do care about you, we want you to learn proper behavior. Damon, you are special to us." She embraced him until he regained most of his control of his emotions, it took a while.

"Now, you need to go back to your room. I don't want Peter coming home and finding you downstairs and adding to your problems. He is not in the best of moods right now. You won't try to leave again, will you Damon?"

"No Ma'am." He still sounded dejected.

She kissed him on the head and said she would bring supper later. She sent him back upstairs.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin. : Criminal Minds is the property of CBS, the actors, producers, and writers of the show.

**Claimer:** Damon is mine

**AN: **A special thanks to peppe1951 for betaeing all my DAMON II chapters, and her encouragement and input to help keep my story going.

**DAMON II (9)**

*** She kissed him on the head and said she would bring supper later. She sent him back upstairs. ***

When bedtime came, Damon closed Satch out of his room; he figured he didn't deserve him. He sat under the table, his brain still not firing on all cylinders_; it's Neal's fault, if he hadn't gotten me mad, none of this would have happened. It's all Neal's fault. Damn Neal!_

It was well after midnight when Peter came home. He went up to his bedroom and El sleepily briefed him on her earlier confrontation with Damon. He noiselessly went up to Damon's room to check on him and saw Satch lying outside Damon's door. He quietly opened the door and Satch pushed by him to get on the bed. He noticed the bed was empty. The room was suddenly illuminated as he flipped the light switch and Damon sat back up under the table. He had fallen asleep there.

Peter was tired; he was not in the mood for a confrontation. "Get ready for bed."

Damon, shocked awake by the light had forgotten his current situation and for just a moment had allowed a brief eye contact. He saw Agent Burke was still angry but didn't hate him, he's not sure what he saw for that brief second, but it was not hate. He got up to obey and waited for Agent Burke to leave the room. When he realized that he was not going to leave he grabbed his pajamas and turned his back to the agent, too embarrassed to change in front of him, and changed his clothes quickly. He slowly turned back around to the agent.

Peter spoke again, "Damon, you will stay in your room until I get home tomorrow to address your offenses. You are allowed out only to use the bathroom and go downstairs to eat. El is going to stay home tomorrow to insure your compliance. Do you understand?"

Damon nodded.

"I don't know how many times I have to tell you your brain is too big to rattle. Answer me."

"Yes Sir."

"Get in bed. Goodnight, Damon." Damon did not look up to see what he had seen for that brief second on Peter's face. If he had, he might have seen the caring, concern, and worry written there. But there was no hate.

Damon crawled into bed, but he did not throw his arms around Satch, and when Peter left, Damon got out of bed and crawled back under his table.

During the night, Damon had one of his dreams. Satch, ever faithful Satch, jumped out of bed to go to him under the table and wake him. Damon stirred, barely aware that he had had the dream, "no Satch" and he pushed Satch away. Satch was a good dog and he took his job seriously. Even if his boy rejected him, he would be forever faithful, he loved his boy. He jumped back on the bed and lay at the foot of it so he could see and watch over his boy. He would protect his boy.

***WC***

When Peter came home the next evening, his anger was all but gone and his agent mode was on. He wanted to know the 'how's, what's, and why's. Mostly he wanted to know the 'whys'. He called for Damon.

When Damon came downstairs, Peter pointed to a spot in front of him to confront him. Peter had seated himself in a dining room chair and wanted Damon standing in front of him. Since Damon seemed incapable of lifting his head, Peter decided to lower himself to Damon's level so maybe he would have some chance of reading Damon's expressions. Damon stopped a foot short of the indicated spot, and Peter had to repoint to the desired location.

Peter's voice was firm but caring. "Damon, why did you steal those wallets?"

"It's Neal's fault, he…."

Peter put up his hand to stop him. "Why Damon?"

"Neal made me…."

Again Peter stopped him. "You stole those wallets, not Neal. Why?"

"But Neal…"

Peter raised his hand again, "Damon, if I hear you try to blame Neal one more time for your actions, I swear I well take my belt to you right here. Now, you want to try again?"

Damon almost started again, and looked at Peter. Peter cocked his head with 'do you really want to try me' written on his face. Damon shut up.

"Damon, you are responsible for your own actions. Neal did not hold a gun to your head. He did not threaten you. You need to take responsibility for your actions."

Damon almost spoke up again, glanced at Peter who again cocked his head, 'I dare you' evident in his eyes.

Again, Damon chose to shut up, but his mind didn't. _Couldn't Agent Burke see? It's all Neal's fault. He made me mad. He made me do it! _

"Okay, Damon, this is what we're going to do. We will delay sentencing on your crime spree until you are able to take responsibility. You will be assigned to the dungeon until you are ready to talk logically. Dungeon all day, homework after supper. Any questions?"

Damon shook his head no_. Why can't Agent Burke see it's not his fault? _

Peter dismissed him to his labors and as Damon turned to leave, Peter spoke up again, "Oh, and Damon, this time does not go toward 'time served'. This time is on you, it's as long or as short as you decide. Once you take responsibility for your actions, then your discipline for your crimes will be decided."

Damon went to the dungeon_. That's not fair! It's Neal's fault!_

***WC***

It took two days for a mixture of hard labor, repeated attention to the punching bag, and logic to reassert itself for Damon to approach Peter.

"Can I talk to you, Sir?"

El spoke up, "May I...?"

Peter waited for Damon to rephrase his question. "May I talk to you, Sir?"

Peter was pleased, good, the kid was responsive. "Yes you may."

"I…. I'm sorry I stole the wallets."

"Why did you steal them, Damon?"

"Because Neal…" He looked up quickly, "I'm not blaming Neal, I'm just explaining."

"Go on." Again, Peter was satisfied with Damon's conduct.

"Because Neal said he was going to squeal on me, and he thought I might get caught. I… I got angry and I let my anger control me. I stole the wallets because of my temper. I'm not going to be caught, I'm too good!"

He looked up quickly realizing that was probably not the right thing to say to a federal agent.

Peter let it slide, for now, but it did not set well with him. "So you are saying Damon that when you get angry, you become impulsive. You have no control over your actions?"

Damon didn't like the sound of that, the way it was worded….

"I'm sorry. I tried to go back the next day and retrieve them, I'm not sure what I was going to do with them, but the dumpster had been emptied. They were gone." He hesitated, "It's my fault. I'm responsible for what I did."

Peter was relived the boy was finally excepting responsibility, "You know Neal was only trying to help you. Yes, I know he seems to be the wrong person to try to give advice on this matter, but he really was trying to help you. If you had listened to him and told me that night, we'd be looking at a whole different scenario right now."

Damon didn't respond, he was still mad at Neal and would not acknowledge anything decent from him.

Peter continued, "Okay, Damon, we know why you stole the four wallets, stupid excuse but we know why. What about the first wallet? Why did you steal it and then return it?" He hoped Damon wasn't just 'practicing' his skills.

Damon had been racking his brain trying to figure out how to explain that one without lying, or telling the whole truth. "I…. it…. It was a perfect setup. It just happened and I couldn't resist. I felt bad afterward. I thought about how you and Mrs. Burke would be disappointed in me and I returned it. I didn't take anything from the wallet."

"So, you are saying you were not angry, and still could not control your impulse to steal? Are you a kleptomaniac? What else have you stolen Damon?"

"Nothing Sir! Not since I've lived with you and Mrs. Burke!" Damon did not like where Agent Burke was heading….

"But you have a lack of impulse control."

Damon quietly groaned. That was not true! He was proud of his self-control. It was the pressure of not having enough money when the time came, something he could not admit. Agent Burke had twisted everything around, making it look like he had a psychological problem.

"Damon, you said you returned the wallet because El and I would be disappointed. What about the victim? Did you feel sorry for the victim?"

The confused look on Damon's face told Peter all he needed to know. He was not a victim, he was a mark. Peter sighed, another psychological flaw in Damon. Then he remembered something….

"Damon, why didn't you look at the ID's in the wallets?"

Damon considered how to explain and answered. "Because then they become real." Damon still remembered the very first two wallets he had ever stolen. He had looked at their ID's. He still remembered their names, their addresses, their faces. He still felt guilty about them.

Peter was relieved, Damon had learned to separate himself from the victim, but he did have empathy. He just had to be re-trained. Peter returned to the task at hand.

"Okay Damon. You have two weeks hard labor in the dungeon. After that, we will discuss your limited activities, your report times, and whatever else we need to do to keep you honest."

Damon looked up shocked. _Two weeks! Limited activities! Report times! Damn Neal! _He miserably turned toward the dungeon. Then stopped and turned around to face Peter,

_Shut up Damon._ "Sir, that won't work." _You idiot!_

Peter was trying to control his ire. The kid was questioning him? Re-consideration of the belt flashed through his mind. "What won't work?"

"There's not two weeks of work left down there. I'm almost done." _Now you did it! Why can't you just keep your mouth shut!_

"How long do you think 'till you're finished?"

"A week to ten days." _Idiot, now he's gotta find something else for you to do!_

"I'll be down there before the week is up assessing the situation. But it's too late to start now. Sentence starts tomorrow. Get cleaned up for dinner. Don't worry, Damon, I will find something else for you to do."

But that was exactly what Damon was worried about. _You idiot, don't you ever know when to keep your mouth shut! _He went upstairs as instructed.

Peter thought about the last little encounter. Sometimes the kid was honest to a fault, and then he turns around and steals. What was going through that kid's head? He believed there was more to the story on the first wallet. He had resisted the temptation to steal for way too long to suddenly just happen to start. Why did he steal that first wallet? What was his true motive?

He sighed. Now he had to try to keep two Caffrey's honest!

***WC***

Peter did visit the dungeon to see Damon's progress. The basement had been crammed with boxes, old furniture and any number of nick-knacks that over the years had just been placed haphazardly here and there. It had almost been like a maze trying to maneuver down there.

But now the basement was clean and everything had been neatly stacked on one side. Almost half of the basement was empty except for the couch, the kick/punching bag and an end table Damon had kept out for his use.

The basement had never been finished. The wall beams and ceiling joists were all exposed. Fortunately there was no sign of water seepage.

Damon was given instructions to start sorting the contents of the basement to include boxes into piles; trash, goodwill, mementos, etc. Peter or El would check his selections for final disposition. Then he would repack accordingly. The Burkes had stored a lot of useless stuff over the years.

He was also given instructions, a work/homework mix, to draw a scale sketch of the basement to include all measurements and an estimate of how many 4x8 sheets of paneling and 2x4 ceiling tiles would be needed to complete the basement.

Damon had spoken up at that point, "Can we use drywall instead?"

Peter responded, "Drywall has to be finished and painted."

"I want to paint it." He shrugged, "Looks like I'll be spending a lot of time down here."

Peter gave him a quizzical look; does he plan on getting in trouble? Or he just too much Caffrey and figures he will? "But if you enjoy painting it, how is that a punishment?" He countered.

Damon tried to consolidate his thoughts to clarify, "Sir, if you send a man to prison, do you want him to just sit and mope and feel sorry for himself, or would you rather he did something constructive with his time? When I am down here, it is the same as prison, well, sort of, I am not free to leave and do what I want to. What is the harm in spending that time doing something productive? Trust me, I am not going to do something wrong just so I can come down here and paint!"

Peter had to admit the kid made sense. "But why paint?"

"I have an idea."

"I'll think about it."

***WC***

When Damon was finally released from his sentence, Peter had more instructions for him.

"Damon, since you have shown a lack of impulse control, your actions will be monitored. You will call in every hour, on the hour to report your location and activity. If I am not available you will send me a text message with the information, and then call Elizabeth with your report. If at any time, we hear or deduce anything suspicious, you will be sent home. And Damon, if you are sent home, it's in your best interest to do so. Also, you will stay away from crowded areas; I want to minimize your bumping into people and being tempted. And you will be home by 4:00 PM every day. Do you have any questions?"

Peter saw Damon was getting angry, he didn't like the restrictions.

"Damon, your temper is what got you in trouble in the first place. Count to ten."

Damon looked at him like he was a moron.

"Damon, it's a proven remedy. Count to 10, or higher if you need to, in your head until you calm down."

Ever defiant Damon counted in his head, _'2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13, 17, 19, 23, 29, 31, 37'_. He found out it did help, but he refused to do it Agent Burke's way, he counted with prime numbers. That little defiance helped calm him, too.

Peter saw he was actually listening and trying his recommendation, well he thought he was.

"Now do you have any questions?"

Damon shook his head no. Peter frowned at him. "No Sir."

But Damon was determined to make sure this reporting in crap didn't last long. He would be on his best behavior, or appear to be, until he got his freedom back.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin. : Criminal Minds is the property of CBS, the actors, producers, and writers of the show.

**Claimer:** Damon is mine

**AN: **A special thanks to peppe1951 for betaeing all my DAMON II chapters, and her encouragement and input to help keep my story going.

**DAMON II** (10)

*** But Damon was determined to make sure this reporting in crap didn't last long. He would be on his best behavior, or appear to be, until he got his freedom back. ***

***WC***

By the time Damon got off his latest dungeon stretch, the weather had warmed enough for the hustlers with their gaming tables to show back up in the streets. He had to time his plays in-between reporting in times. It wouldn't do for Agent Burke to hear the gamers egging on their marks in the background. But between saving all his lunch money and the tables, he slowly built his stash….

He spent more time at the parkour area since neither the area nor the background noise clued the Burkes into what he was really doing. Exercising or playing with friends was usually a good enough explanation to cover him, and since it was not a lie, they believed him. He did not think they would approve if they really knew what he was doing; he could just picture Mrs. Burke having a heart attack as he maneuvered up rock cliffs or the side of a bridge, and when some of them ventured into the city, scrambled up the outside of a fire escapes or climbed balcony to balcony with absolutely no safety equipment. Nope, it was always easier to get forgiveness then permission.

***WC***

But Peter and El noticed Damon did not smile as freely as he used to, he had returned to a semi-withdrawn state. He refused to accept calls or answer texts from Neal so their Sunday sessions had ceased. Peter was determined to bring the boy back out of his slump.

One Sunday at breakfast Peter addressed Damon,

"When you're done eating, go put on some jeans, a casual shirt and some sturdy shoes. We're going out for a while."

Damon was instantly wary, what was Agent Burke up to now? But he did as told, anything to relieve the monotony his curtailed life gave him.

When they got in the car and started heading north Damon's curiosity got the best of him, "Where are we going, Sir?"

Peter smiled at him, "You'll see."

After about thirty minutes they pulled into a long drive with a sign that read 'Riverdale Equestrian Centre' and up to a huge red barn. Damon looked at Peter wondering what they were doing at a horse stable but he didn't mind checking out the horses. Since he left Texas, the closest he got to a horse was watching the officers patrol the park via horseback, or the buggy horses.

Peter parked the car and they both got out. Damon watched a brunette walk up to Agent Burke,

"Peter, I see you found it okay. Is this Damon?"

"Yes, Sara. Damon, this is Sara Ellis."

Damon didn't want to mess up a possible chance to see some horses so he was on his best behavior, "Pleased to meet you, Ma'am," and held out his hand to shake.

She shook his hand. "You too, Damon." Then she turned to Peter, "Wow, he looks like…"

Peter interrupted, "I really appreciate this Sara. You sure your clients don't mind?"

Sara laughed, "After recovering their Mercedes SLR they are more than willing to accommodate me. They also said the horses could use the exercise, they don't ride them as much as they used to. I think that's because they bought that SLR."

Damon had perked up at that statement_, ride? _

"Come on, I'll show you your mounts and where they store their gear."

It was all Damon could do to stop from running ahead….

She showed them two geldings, a dark bay and a chestnut. Damon was immediately attracted to the dark bay; it was younger and a little skittish.

"That one's name is Magic. The owner's said he might need a more experienced rider. You might want to check out Rocky, he's gentler."

But Damon was already on top of the stall gate stroking the bay, calming it.

Peter hadn't been on a horse in years with the exception of one short ride to catch an escaping felon and wasn't sure about his own expertise, but Damon was a kid. "Damon, maybe you should check out Rocky while we check out the gear." He then followed Sara to the tack room to see which equipment they were to use.

By the time Peter said goodbye to Sara and returned with one saddle, he found Damon on the back of the bay, softly singing to it. The bay stood still, calm and relaxed.

Peter kept his voice calm, he didn't want to spook the horse, "Damon, you need to wait before you pull a stupid stunt like that. Now get off him before he spooks."

Damon looked up, all smiles "But I knew he didn't mind. He won't spook."

"Damon…"

Damon sighed and slid off the horse's back, stroked the bay, then exited the stall.

Peter let out a breath of relief, "Let's get the rest of the equipment. Do you know how to saddle a horse?"

"Off course, but I'd rather ride bareback. Can I?"

Peter cringed at the thought of riding bareback, "No."

Then Damon really noticed the saddle for the first time, "Don't they have any western saddles? I've never ridden with an English one."

Peter laughed, "Well, I guess you're going to learn something new. Let's go"

Damon sighed resignedly, "Yankees…"

They managed to gear the horses up, Peter showing Damon the differences between English and Western gear. Damon had to keep Magic calm as Peter helped with him. Magic didn't seem to care for Peter too much and started acting up as soon as he entered his stall. Damon was able to keep him calm by stroking and softly singing to him_, 'I should've been a cowboy, I should've learned to rope and ride…'_*****

Peter decided there was no question as to who was riding which horse.

Peter ran into a snag when he tried to hand Damon a riding helmet.

"I don't need that."

"Yes you do, Damon. Put it on."

"Helmets are for sissies, I don't wear them."

"You do now if you want to ride." Peter was trying to remain calm and cool; he didn't want to spoil anything.

Damon glared at Peter a minute. He realized the agent wasn't going to give in on the matter. Angrily condescending to Agent Burke's wishes, he tried to jerk the helmet out of Peter's hand.

Peter kept a tight grip on the object of contempt, "Damon, you're angry. You're not riding that horse angry. Count."

_Damn, why couldn't he ever win with Agent Burke! _He glowered at him as he started counting his primes. When he had calmed down sufficiently, he apologized and accepted the helmet. He reluctantly put it on knowing he looked like a nerd. He knew he'd never tell the Burke's about parkour!

They lead their mounts out of the stable then stopped to mount. "Here Damon, I'll give you a leg up." Peter started to tie up his horse to help Damon; he looked pretty small beside the bay.

Damon grabbed the bay's reins and mane with his left hand, took a step back, then rushed forward throwing his right leg partway over the horse and pulled himself the rest of the way up onto Magic's back. Magic shied just a little from the unfamiliar method of mounting, but Damon quickly calmed him.

"I don't need any help, Sir." He smiled down at Peter.

"I see that…" Peter felt a little clumsy mounting his horse after watching Damon, even though he did accomplish it in a totally normal manner.

"I would have been smoother if I didn't have this saddle on." Damon informed him.

"Stirrups set right, Damon?" Peter queried.

"I don't know. I've never been able to reach them before."

"Remember what I told you about reining. Use two hands to direct rein, these horses are not trained for neck reining. Let's ride."

They rode the horse trails through Van Cortlandt Park. Peter had to keep an eye on boy and horse, both were young and green broke, they both wanted to run with the wind. He noticed Damon had no trouble handling the horse, he and Magic seemed to work as a single entity.

They had to keep the ride fairly short. Peter knew his muscles would pay for his years away from riding. But Damon was all smiles while he rode, which is what Peter had hoped for. After they had finished their ride Damon made sure the horses were properly cooled and groomed before putting them back in their stalls.

On the way to the car, Damon turned to Peter, "Thank you, Sir. That was great. I wasn't sure if I was ever going to get to ride again, living in a city this big."

"You're welcome, Damon. I enjoyed it too. Maybe we can get Sara to pull some strings again sometime."

Damon beamed making Peter pleased he'd thought to ask Sara.

On the ride home, Peter questioned Damon. "Have you ever been hiking, or camping? How about fishing?"

"Well, just running around the woods back in Texas you would call hiking, so I guess I have. And I've fished in stock ponds, never really caught much though. Camping? No, I've never been camping."

Peter grinned, "Well, I guess I'm just going to have to introduce you to the backwoods of New York this summer."

Damon wondered if he was serious.

***WC***

The horseback riding went a long ways toward bringing Damon back to his pre-pickpocket state, easing up on his restrictions helped too. He slowly regained trust to win much of his freedom back. But he still refused to talk to Neal. Mostly because he was still mad at him, but also because he was ashamed of how he had acted that day, and didn't want to face Neal.

***WC***

One evening Peter was working on a particularly troublesome case and Damon sat on the other side of the table working his math homework. Damon often read Peter's case files; he was pretty adept in reading upside down. This particular night he recognized the picture….

He jumped up, knocking his chair over, "Th…. th…. that's h…. him…."

Peter looked up to see a very pale frightened child standing on the other side to the table. "Who, Damon?"

"H…. him. He k… k… killed my mother…" Damon looked at him, his eyes filled with terror.

Peter rushed around the table to him, placed a hand on each shoulder, trying to reassure him, calm him, and send his strength through his touch. "Are you sure, Damon?"

"I…. I saw h… him through… through th… the hole, the…. the stuff, there w… was a hole surrounded by…. by… by… greyish stuff," He looked at Peter, his eyes desperate. "Th… the stuff was fl… fl… flying t… toward me b… b… but I saw him through a space… It was her… her…"

Peter could see Damon's eyes change to despair.

My… my… throat. I… I couldn't breathe. Some… something in my… my throat." His hands went to his throat, he was breathing rapidly, "I couldn't cough, couldn't gag, th… they would hear me. I… I… couldn't breathe. Ch… choking…"

Damon's face contorted in anguish with the guilt of the ages.

"I… I swallowed."

Damon barely had time to tilt forward; Peter barely had time to move backward, as Damon emptied the contents of his stomach onto the dining room floor. Some splashing onto Peter's pant legs.

***WC***

The next few hours were a living nightmare for the Burke household. Damon rotated through sessions of trying to expel the contents of an already empty stomach and trying to withdraw deep within himself. El spent most of her time trying to clean up the messes Damon was determined to make.

Peter spent his time trying to keep Damon in this world, this time and place. He was trying to 'go away' as Stephen did. His eyes would become unfocused trying to escape. Peter thought about Stephen spending five days in that closet with no one to stop his mind from leaving. He was determined not to let that happen with Damon. He liked Damon just the way he was, if he left like Stephen did, who would replace him?

Peter knew Damon did not really have a split personality, but he did have a major personality change and Peter did not want Damon to change…. Taking Damon to the hospital was discussed, but again, Peter let his fears rule him, they would most likely sedate Damon, and who would wake up from that sedation. He wanted Damon just the way he was with all his faults, all his problems, he wanted Damon.

He talked to him, occasionally yelled at him, and once even slapped him to keep his eyes focused in this world.

Finally, totally worn out, Damon fell asleep. It was a normal peaceful sleep. He lay on the couch, his head in Peter's lap. Peter was sitting on the end of the couch; his arm across Damon's shoulder, aware of Damon's breathing, alert for any change. He drifted off to sleep.

After Damon went to sleep, El went to her room to lie down totally exhausted. The Burke household slept.

About 4 AM Damon woke and sat up confused. Peter felt him move and half woke himself. He turned to Peter, "Why am I down here? What happened?"

Peter was only half awake; it had been a long night. "You don't remember?"

Damon searched his memory and then panicked. "Mrs. Burke! Where is Mrs. Burke!" He was almost screaming.

His shouts woke El up and she rushed out, fearing a repeat of the last night's nightmare, she rushed halfway down the stairs. "Damon? I'm right here Damon."

Damon gaped, confused, "Mrs. Burke, you're okay? You're okay!"

"Yes Damon, I'm fine."

Damon searched his memory again. He turned to Peter, "Neal! Where's Neal!" He lunged for Peter's pocket trying to grab his cell phone. "Neal!"

Peter did not understand what was wrong with Damon, but he was in a state of panic. He held Damon back with one hand and took out his phone with the other. He dialed Neal's number.

Neal answered the phone half asleep, "Peter, do you know what time it is?"

"Damon needs to talk to you."

Damon had been desperately trying to take the phone from Peter. Now Peter handed it to him, "Neal! Neal are you okay?"

"Yeah, Bro. I'm fine. What's wrong?"

But Damon had already handed the phone back to Peter, "Neal?"

"Peter, what is going on?"

"Long story, I'll tell you later. Go back to sleep." He hung up the phone. Damon was grabbing at his shirt sleeve, still frightened.

"Who died? Someone died! Who?"

He grabbed Damon's shoulders trying to still the distraught boy. "No one died Damon. No one died."

"But it's black! Last night is black! I can't remember!"

Peter finally understood. "Damon. Damon, look at me. Listen to me." Damon shook as he focused on Peter's face.

"Damon, you saw a picture of your mother's murderer last night. You relived the incident."

"No one died?"

"No Damon, no one new. You relived your mother's death." Peter was grateful he'd blacked it out again.

Damon looked into Peter's eyes, he saw the truth there and he finally calmed down. To Peter's surprise, he lay back down with his head in Peter's lap. Peter replaced his arm over Damon's shoulder, he was exhausted. Suddenly Damon stiffened and raised halfway back up, "Does that mean it's over?"

"Is what over?"

"My case. It's solved now, right?"

"No Damon. I do not believe the man you identified is the one who is actually looking for you. We still have to find the one he was working for."

"Oh." Damon lay back down.

Peter could have sworn he heard a sigh of relief from Damon as he relaxed back on the couch. Was he glad the case wasn't solved? That made no sense. Peter wrote it off to his own imagination, he was so tired….

When Peter was sure Damon was sound asleep again, he slipped out from under him and placed a throw pillow under his head. He walked over to his files that were still strewn across the table, gathered them together and locked them in his briefcase.

He realized Damon could never be a witness in this man's trial for his mother's death. He would not put Damon through that hell again, and if he did get on the stand and freak out like that, the defense would have a heyday proving Damon was mentally incompetent. Larssen was in prison now for attempted murder, evading arrest and several other crimes, he would be there for years. Damon was safe from him for now. But if he ever found out Damon existed and got out of prison, Peter was afraid he would go after the only witness to Cindy's murder. Again, Damon's safety took priority.

He sat in the recliner and kicked it back to get a couple hours sleep, he did not want to go upstairs and leave Damon alone, just in case.

Just before he drifted off to sleep he thought that if any psychiatrist, psychologist or therapist in Damon's future ever recommends he relive the death of his mother so he could heal, he swore he would deck them.

***WC***

*****Toby Keith - 'I Should've Been A Cowboy'

##### Merry Christmas! #####


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin. : Criminal Minds is the property of CBS, the actors, producers, and writers of the show.

**Spoilers: **I have stolen a scene out of 'Forging Bonds' 2/11 to fit into my story. Sorry Jeff, but yours is much better than anything I could create! **Damon stole Neal's part and lines**. / / I also stole a line from 'What Happens in Burma' 2/12. Yes, I know Neal really said the line, but in my story, it worked better for Peter. **Quotes from series are in bold print.**

**Warning: **Some Damon whump.

**Claimer:** Damon is mine

**AN: **A special thanks to peppe1951 for betaeing all my DAMON II chapters, and her encouragement and input to help keep my story going.

**DAMON II (11)**

*** Just before he drifted off to sleep he thought that if any psychiatrist, psychologist or therapist in Damon's future ever recommends that he relive the death of his mother so he could heal, he swore he would deck them. ***

***WC***

The next day at work, Neal approached a very tired Peter. "Peter, what was that about this morning?"

"Damon saw Larssen's picture. He recognized him as his mother's killer."

Neal froze, "Larssen?"

"Yes. With the two suspects Damon has recognized, I'm afraid who it might lead to…."

"No, Peter. No, it can't be. Why would he want Damon? And how would he know Damon is my son? No Peter, that makes no sense."

"It's all we have to go on right now."

But Peter had more immediate issues at hand, "Neal, you need to resume your Sunday visits."

Neal took a second to recover, "What? Peter, you know he doesn't want to see me, he doesn't need me."

Peter sighed and leaned forward, **"A twelve year old doesn't know what he does or doesn't need.** You didn't see his panic when he thought something might have happened to you. He cares about you." He sat back. "Grow up Neal. He's just a kid; someone has to make the first move."

Neal was nervous, "Actually he's thirteen. But what if he tells me to leave?"

Peter frowned at Neal; he wanted everyone to go by Damon's WITSEC age, not his true age. It was for Damon's protection. "Neal, you're the adult, cowboy up."

Peter watched Neal fidget for a minute and then resumed. "Neal, I don't know what you have been teaching him when we leave you alone, but you need to stop. I don't want to get between you and Damon but…"

Neal put on his best innocent face, "Peter, I wouldn't…."

Peter interrupted, "Yes you would Neal. And another thing, if you or your friends ever see Damon break any laws again, you had better tell me right away. If you ever hold back pertinent information from me again, I swear I will…"

It was Neal's turn to interrupt, he knew where Peter was going and didn't want to hear it, "Peter, I'm sorry. I should have told you, but I thought Damon would. I will tell you next time."

Peter squinted his eyes, "Next time…?"

Neal quickly regrouped, "I mean if I ever see anything again. Peter, I'm sure there won't be a 'next time'…" Neal hoped….

***WC***

But Neal did find excuses as to why he couldn't visit the next Sunday, and the one after that….

***WC***

After the murderer's photo incident, Peter reinstated his sentiments for Damon. His heart went out to the boy. His ability to survive after…. after what he had experienced impressed Peter. He wanted to do his best for Damon.

Peter wanted to do something special for Damon's birthday; he was torn between Yankee tickets and a camping trip. El came to his rescue. "Hon, I know he enjoyed the football game with you but sports are not really his thing. Camping lasts longer and I think he would enjoy it a lot, he is so active. And it will give him a longer lasting impression. You can always buy game tickets."

***WC***

Early morning of Damon's official thirteenth birthday, Peter got up and went to wake Damon for the trip. He found Damon already awake, already dressed and already ready. But Damon acted nonchalant, like he didn't care about the trip. Peter smiled; he was slowly learning to understand the enigma that called himself Damon.

They drove up to Blue Mountain Lake in the Adirondacks. Damon had trouble believing something that wild and beautiful existed a mere five hours from the heartbeat of New York City. Since Damon was totally unfamiliar with the intricacies of planned hiking trips, he took all of his cues from Peter.

They geared up and headed up the trail to Forked Lake. Peter had Damon walk ahead of him so he could keep an eye on him. The boy had a tendency to be so entranced by the view; he would unconsciously walk off the trail to get a closer look.

About an hour before dusk they reached the primitive campsite and started their camp setup. Damon was more than willing to help, but Peter had to keep a constant teaching repertoire to keep him on track. Peter could not help but smile at the boy's excitement.

Pre-dawn he woke Damon up.

"Come on, time to fish!"

Damon tried to roll over; it was break of dawn, not the time for any thinking being to arise.

"Come on Damon. Chow is in the water. If you don't fish, you can't eat!"

That did not impress Damon, he moaned in distaste.

Peter had to use his method of last resort. He started tickling Damon.

"No! No! Stop! Stop! I'm up! Damon cried through his uncontrollable laughter.

"You sure?" Peter attacked again.

Damon tried hopelessly to block the torture, "Yes! I'm up!"

They got geared up and they went out on the small boat Peter had rented for the excursion. Again Damon's south-western roots conflicted with his new environment. The little fishing he had done was intended for catfish. You bait your hook, preferably some kind of stink bait, throw it in the water and let it drop and wait for a bite. But now he had to learn a new type of fishing. He had to keep the bait moving, artificially tempting the bass or trout to hit. It appealed more to his active nature.

Of course Peter made the first couple catches; one had to be thrown back, it was too small. Then Damon got a strike.

His rod bent low with the hit; he almost lost the bass in his excitement. "Sir…" he appealed for Peter's help.

Peter helped by talking and guiding him to complete the catch. When Damon worked the bass close to the boat, Peter scooped it up with the net. "Damon, I think you just caught our dinner!" Damon grinned with his accomplishment.

By the time they got back to the campsite, they had four nice sized fish. Peter taught Damon how to clean and cook them on a campfire. Damon thought it was the best tasting fish he had ever had.

***WC***

Damon felt his case was coming to a head. He had almost $800 in his stash, which was enough, but he wanted $1000 to be on the safe side. Summer was almost over; the hustler's tables would be leaving soon, and it was getting harder and harder to find one that didn't know him.

He took $50 from his stash and wandered around looking for new opportunities. He found tables here and there and worked up to $200 in his pocket. Then he spotted a new grifter, one who looked inexperienced. He observed him for a while, staying back out of sight, studying his methods. Hardly anyone was at his table…. He had enough money, but the chance to make more was tempting. Greed took him, and that's what the cons looked for….

He moved closer to the table. The hustler had a mark already playing. The con made his call as he shuffled the cards around, **"Alright, follow the lady! All you gotta do is follow the lady! I mix them fast but all you gotta do is follow them faster and you win! Simple as that!" **He stopped the shuffle.

The mark pointed to a card, **"Lady's in the middle."**

The con flipped the middle card over to reveal the Queen of hearts, **"You got good peepers, pal. Wanna double up, buddy?"**

The mark was taken in, **"Sure!"**

"**Ok, think you can follow her? I'm saying that you can't. It's all a game of you verses me." He started the card shuffle again. "Alright here we go, here we go, where is she? Where is she? Watch her, watch her. She's a sneaky lady, but I think she likes you."**

Damon worked his way up beside the mark watching the cards in motion.

The mark pointed to his choice. **"She's on the right."**

Damon was ready to make his move, **"She's back in the middle."**

The mark corrected Damon, **"You crazy? She's definitely on the right."**

"**Hey, it's his money."** The con wanted Damon to stay out of his game.

The mark flipped over the right card and it was the 10 of spades.

The con flipped over the center card and exposed 'the lady'. **"Aw, she's sneakin' around on you, boss."**

The disappointed mark turned to Damon. **"Lucky guess. You're so good at this, why don't you put your own money down?"**

"**You gonna bet or walk away?"** It was a slow day and the grifter was fishing for a new mark, even if he could only win the kid's lunch money. As Damon stepped closer, he asked, "**Whatcha got?"**

Damon acted innocent as he reached in his pocket, **"Alright." **And put down a $20 bill.

The old mark was still pissed about losing. "$20? **Come on, really take this guy."**

The kid had more than the con thought he would, he sided with the mark. **"It's time to put up or shut up, kid."**

The temptation was too much for Damon, **"Alright, let's go** $200," and counted the bills onto the table.

The con was happy; it was much more than he thought he would get from the punk kid. **"Alright, looks like I hooked me a whale here!" **and matched the bet.

"**Looky, looky, looky. Hey diddle, diddle the queen's in the middle. Follow 'em fast, follow 'em slow. My hands are fast, your eyes are slow. Pick that little lady and you win my man. All you gotta do is show me the smile on the lady's face and you walk away with it all."**

Damon saw him switch the card. He knew 'the lady' was no longer in play. He pointed to the card on the left.

The con looked at him, **"You sure?"**

"**Yeah, he's sure."** The old mark responded anxious to have his revenge.

Damon was ready to make his move, **"I'm sure."** He was reaching for the card to switch it when the con grabbed his arm and turned it over. There was 'the lady' in Damon's palm.

"You trying to cheat me, kid?"

The old mark moved up close, grabbing Damon from behind. Damon felt something pushing into his side…

"You make a sound punk, and I will slice you up right here." He started guiding Damon into the alley…. behind the dumpsters…. he pulled Damon's backpack off and threw it to the side…

The grifter followed behind them…

The old 'mark', now Damon realized he was a shill, pinned Damon's arms behind him.

The grifter faced Damon. "I'm gonna teach you not to cheat me again, punk," he stated as he slammed his fist into Damon's midriff. Damon would have bent over double if the shill hadn't been holding him upright. The con noticed the phone in Damon's pocket and pulled it out. "You're going to give me this to pay for your cheating." He punched Damon again. "What ya got to say for yourself, punk?"

Damon couldn't talk, he was too busy trying to regain the breathe that had been knocked out of him for the second time. He was trying to keep his stomach muscles flexed to protect his insides as the con struck him several more times…

"This is just a warning. Don't ever let me catch you around my table again, punk!" He cued the shill to let Damon go. As Damon tried to bend over clenching his stomach, the con brought his knee up into Damon's face, snapping his head up and back. He fell to the asphalt.

"Get out of here, punk, before I really give you something to cry about!"

Damon started to pull himself up while bent over; he reached for his backpack…

The grifter saw him and grabbed the pack before Damon could reach it. "I do believe you owe me this too! Now scram!"

Damon, using the wall to support him, moved away from the thugs, heading toward home. Once out of sight, he paused to get his bearings, home was a long ways off. They took all his money so he couldn't pay for a cab, and he did not want to go up and down the subway steps, just the thought made him hurt more. He headed for home, staying against the wall, bent half over, every step adding to the pain….

He walked for what seemed an eternity but in reality were only a few blocks when someone grabbed him.

"Are you alright, boy?"

Damon glanced up, it was the gentleman he had stolen the wallet from and then returned. "Yeah, I'm fine." He barely mumbled.

The man had seen his face, it was starting to purple into a nice shiner; "I'm going to call the police…" he started to say.

"No!" Damon yelled. "No, please no cops. I'm alright."

The man had noticed Damon's fear of the police so he capitulated, "But you need help." He really did like the honest boy who had returned his wallet.

Damon just wished the man would leave him alone so he could go home, "I just need to get home. I don't need any help. I'll be okay."

"Nonsense, boy." He grabbed Damon under the arm and pulled him to the curb. Damon was in too much pain to resist.

He flagged down a cab and put Damon in the back seat. Damon tried to protest, but didn't have the strength to put up a good fight. "Where do you live?"

Damon shook his head; he didn't want to answer that question.

"Boy, I need to know how much to pay the cabbie. Where about do you live?"

Damon hurt too bad to argue, he gave in and gave a cross street. The cabbie gave an estimated price and the man handed him the amount plus an extra $20. "Make sure he gets home safe!"

On the ride home, Damon thought about the gentleman. He had stolen from that man. Stolen from him! And he erroneously believed Damon was honest. And now he was going out of his way to help him! Damon didn't like the guilt that mixed with his pain.

The cabbie dropped him off in front of the townhouse and Damon fought his way up the steps and into the house. He made it to the couch before he allowed himself to give into the pain and lay down clenching his abdomen.

***WC***

Since Damon had been put on the WC WITSEC program, an agent had been assigned, on a rotating basis, to monitor his tracking data. They did not have to sit and watch it, just glance at it occasionally and report any discrepancies to Peter. Since Damon's little crime spree, Peter had insisted they be more vigilant in their observations.

The agent currently assigned to monitor knocked on Peter's door.

"Yes?"

The young agent reported. "Sir, Damon's tracking data is suspicious. His phone and watch are in two different locations. You said to report…"

Peter jumped to his computer to check, "Yes, thank you, good job…" But he was already busy and did not notice the young agent leave.

Peter saw the phone was near the park, and the watch was located at home. He called the phone and got no answer.

He called the house….

***WC***

Damon heard the phone ringing and out of habit from Peter checking up on him when he was serving 'time', he forced himself to get up and answer the phone.

"Hello."

Peter was relieved when he heard Damon's voice. "Damon? I tried calling your cell phone and got no answer."

Damon thought fast, well tried to, it's hard to think on your feet when your feet want to fall out from under you. "I… I lost it."

"Well, why didn't you call me? You know I have the GPS phone locator on it." He was referring to the phone application, not the FBI installed device that Damon was unaware of.

Damon tried to think. "Aw, I dropped it in the water, Sir. The GPS won't work. Don't you have insurance on it to replace it?" He felt guilty; he knew the phone was expensive. And he sure did hope the shithead who stole his phone was smart enough to turn it off.

"You dropped it in the water?" Peter was getting suspicious.

"Yes Sir. In the lake at Central Park. I'm sorry."

"Okay, Damon. I'll be home soon."

Peter had known Damon to twist the truth many a time, just like Neal did, but this was the first time he had ever heard Damon tell him a blatant lie.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:** White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin. : Criminal Minds is the property of CBS, the actors, producers, and writers of the show.

**Claimer:** Damon is mine

**AN: **A special thanks to peppe1951 for betaeing all my DAMON II chapters, and her encouragement and input to help keep my story going.

**DAMON II** **(12)**

*** Peter had known Damon to twist the truth many a time, just like Neal did, but this was the first time he had ever heard Damon tell him a blatant lie. ***

***WC***

Peter shouted at Neal on the way out of the FBI building, "Come on Neal! Let's go!"

Neal grabbed his hat, "Did we get a break in the case, Peter?"

"No, it's Damon." Peter growled.

He briefed Neal on the way to the GPS location of Damon's cell phone.

Neal was worried that if Damon didn't straighten up; he was going to ruin his plans….

They followed the GPS signal to the grifter's table. Peter spoke up. "A kid misplaced his cell phone somewhere around here. Have you seen it?"

The con wasn't going to give up a nice freebie, "No. No one left a cell here."

Just then the man's shirt pocket started playing Lynyrd Skynyrd's 'Free Bird' ringtone, Damon's ringtone for Neal. Peter glanced back at Neal, who was smiling as he held his cell up to show he was calling Damon. Peter figured the odds that that particular ringtone would play at that particular time on someone else's phone. The odds were not good.

Peter stepped closer to the grifter. "I think you're lying…" Just then he glanced down and saw Damon's back pack behind the table. Peter knew Damon would never leave his pack, he carried his library books in there, and he would never willingly abandon a library book.

He looked back at the con, anger written on his face. "What did you do to him….?"

The con knew he was caught, he defended his actions. "He was cheating."

Peter lost his professional conduct and grabbed the man by his shirt collar and slammed him up against the wall behind him, the man's toes barely touching the concrete, "WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY SON!"

Peter never realized what word he had spoken, but Neal heard it and he smiled. It was working!

The con was obviously scared now, the dude was crazy. "I just roughed him up a little bit. He walked away."

Peter continued to hold him against the wall. "If he is hurt, I will come back and find you." Peter broke protocol and used his free hand to flash his badge for personal reasons. "I will find you!" He replaced the badge. "If Damon is ever hurt running these streets, you are the first one I will come looking for, so it would behoove you to make sure he stays safe. Am I clear?"

The grifter nodded his head and Peter removed Damon's phone from his pocket and released him. He turned and grabbed Damon's backpack. The con wanted the last word,

"You need to teach your son not to cheat!" Peter's glare shut him up.

Neal followed a very angry Peter from the scene. When they reached the car, Neal mentioned his home was an enjoyable walk away and he started that way.

"Neal…"

Neal did not like the tone of Peter's voice. "Yes Peter?" He kept his tone light.

"This better not come back to you. You better not have taught him how to cheat." Peter's voice was quiet and venomous in its meaning.

"Peter…!" He shrugged his shoulders innocently and walked backward a few steps before turning and getting away while he could, leaving Damon alone to suffer Peter's wrath.

***WC***

After Damon talked to Peter on the phone, he realized he needed to cover his tracks. He fought his way up to the 2nd floor bathroom and checked in the mirror. His eye was half-mast and that side of his face was discoloring. He checked the bathroom for Mrs. Burke's makeup, there was none in there. He moaned; he would have to go into the master bedroom. He hesitated at the bedroom door for a minute; it was their room, their space, and he did not like violating their sacred space. Finally need overrode respect and he entered their chambers. He had never been in there alone before. He glanced around and headed for Mrs. Burke's vanity table. He searched her makeup and found what he needed, liquid foundation. Again, he had to give time for the need to overcome the guilt, and he took the foundation and pulled himself up to the 3rd floor bathroom.

He had to constantly fight the pain in his abdomen. Walking straight was almost impossible. When he got to his bathroom, he liberally applied the foundation makeup to the bruising on his face. When he thought he successfully accomplished his mission, he headed for his bedroom to lie down. He just wanted to curl up and hold his stomach, it hurt so bad….

***WC***

When Peter arrived home, he had only cooled slightly. Damon had cheated, Damon had lied, and Damon's ass was grass. He bellowed up the stairs, "Damon! Get down here, now!"

Damon moaned when he heard the temper in Peter's voice. He got up, grabbed a ball cap and pulled it low to cover his eye, and shuffled his way miserably to the stairs. The first flight he took holding on to the rail with both hands, but he had to cover his actions on the last flight. He paused at the 2nd floor landing, gathered up all of his reserves, straightened up, while still keeping his head down to shadow his eye, and walked slowly down the stairs. If anyone had bothered to look, they would see his left hand, the one holding the stairway rail, was white from the pressure of holding so tight to control his movements.

Peter saw him walking slowly down the steps and it infuriated him more. Damon usually came at a run, but now he was deliberately descending slowly like he didn't have a care in the world.

When Damon reached the bottom of the steps, he had to pause; he had to draw more inner strength to make it the rest of the way to Peter walking straight and without support. Again, Peter saw it as deliberate defiance.

Peter was standing near the dining room table when Damon approached him. As usual, he stopped too far away for Peter's liking, and Peter had to point to the spot he wanted Damon to occupy. Damon painfully did as instructed.

"Where's your cell phone, Damon?"

"I… I lost it, Sir."

"Where?"

"I told you Sir, in the…" Just then he noticed his backpack sitting by the table. He swallowed. Agent Burke knew. He couldn't think; the pain was overriding his thought process…

Peter was getting impatient, "Where Damon?"

He started to glance up before he remembered his eye and looked back down, "I…. I…" His brain wouldn't work, he couldn't think, he just wanted to double over in pain. He stood still except for the slight weaving he couldn't quite control.

But Peter did see that slight upward glance, he did see something…. He pulled Damon's cap off his head and saw the bruising that had travelled beyond the foundation he had used in an attempt to hide it. He saw the pain written in Damon's face. He saw Damon wobble.

The anger all but vanished as he pointed to the chair, "Damon, sit down."

Damon tried, he really tried. He was at the end of his tolerance, he could bear no more. He tried to step toward the chair; he almost took one step….

Peter stepped forward and scooped Damon up as he started to fall. He took him to the couch and gently laid him down. Damon tried to curl into a ball, holding his stomach.

Peter had to move Damon's hands out of his way to lift up his shirt to see the bruising. It was not real bad, that was a good sign, but there was bruising. Peter realized he had been beaten in his midriff and he knew that could be serious. He gathered Damon up in his arms and headed for the door. Damon moaned in pain.

"Don't worry, son. I've got you." Again, Peter did not realize the word he had spoken, and Damon was in too much pain to hear much of anything.

***WC***

Peter took Damon to the hospital. He had to do some really fast talking, Neal would have been proud, and show his badge to try to convince them not to report the obvious child abuse to the authorities. They settled on a CAT scan to decide the final disposition of Damon's case. If he had internal damage, they would be forced by law to report it.

Damon was not being cooperative. He also had his fears of discovery. Damon's prints, Damon's DNA, all belonged to Stephen. Any match of the two would blow Damon's cover. Damon, half bent in two, tried to fight to leave the hospital.

Dr. Wong, the emergency room doctor said Damon would have to be sedated to do a CAT scan. Damon heard.

"No! No drugs! I don't do drugs!" He protested.

By then El had arrived with Neal and as she calmed Damon, the medication was surreptitiously slipped into his IV. Damon soon became extremely cooperative. He was taken in for the CAT scan.

Fortunately, Damon had no internal damage.

Burkes left Neal with Damon while they went into an empty office with the doctor to explain his findings. Damon's abdominal muscle was highly developed for a child his age, obviously he worked out. Peter and El looked at each other, he did? It appears that he had flexed that muscle, tightened it, to protect himself, and it worked. The pain he was having was due to the trauma to the muscle. It had been abused and was convulsing. The doctor gave the Burkes a prescription for a muscle relaxer and a pain killer and instructions for proper recovery treatment.

While the Burkes were in with the doctor, Neal sat with a sedated Damon, holding his hand and praying the doctor had good news.

Damon woke up and saw Neal. He was still under the effect of the drug and feeling 'high'. "I thought I told you not to visit me anymore."

Since Damon was smiling, Neal could counteract in his normal smooth way, "You said I couldn't visit you at home, you never said anything about the hospital!"

Damon squeezed Neal's hand as the drug took him back to sleep…

Neal felt a weight lift off him as he held tight to Damon's hand, he had felt the squeeze, Damon didn't hate him anymore… He gently smoothed Damon's hair with his free hand.

***WC***

Damon was released from the hospital, the longer he stayed, the better chance of discovery. He showed no signs of internal damage, but the doctor still gave the Burkes signs to look for, just to be on the safe side.

Damon, never having taken any type of drug before, was totally knocked out and Peter had to carry him in when they arrived home.

Peter ended up carrying Damon up to the sitting room off their bedroom. They had a futon in there. Peter did not want to climb all the way to the 3rd floor, and he did want to keep Damon close. It was late, Peter and El were tired, and Damon was drugged. El bent to give Damon a good night kiss,

"'Goodnight sweetie."

"'Night Mom."

She straightened quickly, shocked at the word. She then logically evaluated the drugged Damon had returned to his childhood and thought she was Cindy. _How sweet, and sad_, she thought.

Then Peter bent and planted a kiss on his head, "Goodnight, Damon."

Damon half rolled over, deep in the throes of the drug, "'Night Dad."

Now it was Peter's turn to be confused. He and El soundlessly looked at each other. It was understandable that a drugged Damon could go back in time to his real mom, but dad….? He had never called anyone dad….

***WC***

Peter had to fight Damon to take his medication. Damon had never been sick; he did not like the idea of using drugs. Even though they were prescribed, he bucked the idea. But, in spite of himself, Damon healed. He was confined to the house for a week to give his abdominal muscle plenty of time to recover from the stress.

After the week was up, Peter called Damon to the dining room to address Damon's involvement in the incident, and what disciplinary action should be taken. Peter first addressed the issue of cheating. Damon argued that the other guy cheated first, so it was a defensive reaction, not truly cheating. Of course Peter did not agree with this and of course Damon could not understand why he didn't.

Damon also argued that he was already more than sufficiently reprimanded for getting caught 'cheating'. He was beat up pretty good and confined to the house for a week, wasn't that punishment enough? So it was agreed on that the beating and confinement covered that action.

When the issue of playing the gamer's tables was brought up, Damon argued that he was never told he couldn't play the tables, so he hadn't violated any rules. Peter sternly informed him that he was not allowed to play them anymore. Damon figured he better make sure he wasn't caught again….

Then Peter brought up the subject of Damon's lying about the phone.

"Why did you lie to me, Damon?"

Damon really had no decent argument for that one. "I… I…"

"Why Damon?"

Damon bowed his head, he really had no excuse.

"I'll tell you why you lied. You lied to me because you knew we would not approve of you playing the tables." He showed the count on one finger,

"You lied to me because you knew we would not approve of you cheating." He showed the count on two fingers,

"And you lied to me because you knew we would not approve of you putting yourself in a dangerous situation with your boneheaded stunt." He showed the count on three fingers.

Then he leaned one hand on the back of a dining room chair, the other on his hip. "Isn't that right, Damon?"

Damon wished he could just disappear… "I… I guess…."

"You guess?"

Damon swallowed, "yes sir"

"Damon, I have tolerated a lot out of you. But I cannot tolerate lying. I will not tolerate lying. But let me tell you want I'm going to do, Damon. I will give you your choice on which disciplinary method I use."

That really sounded suspicious to Damon, he glanced up a Peter. "My choice?"

"Yes Damon, your choice. You can choose a week in the dungeon," He indicated the basement door, "or you can choose fourteen licks with that." He indicated a leather paddle that Damon had somehow missed lying on the table. The paddle end was about as wide as a man's hand, and about fifteen inches long.

Damon didn't like his options, he tried to dispute, "But I already got beat up and confined for a week. Doesn't that count?"

"You said that was punishment for cheating, Damon. This is for lying."

Damon groaned; Agent Burke had so conned him into that! But Damon could not really believe Agent Burke was serious. "You're saying I can spend a week in the dungeon, or get fourteen licks with that, and it's over?"

"Yes Damon, that's what I'm saying. It's your choice." Peter spoke in a dead serious tone.

Damon knew the obvious choice, he moved closer to the dungeon…

"What's the catch?"

"No catch, Damon. It's straight up. Simple."

Damon considered the options. He had some unpleasant experiences when he was on his own; the other day wasn't the first time he'd been beat up. It couldn't be that bad…. "Just fourteen? No more?" He moved a little closer to the dungeon.

"Just fourteen, Damon. No more than that."

"Will it hurt?" He knew that was probably a dumb question….

"Damon, what is the sense of spanking you if it doesn't hurt?"

Damon didn't like that word. Spanking? That's what you did to a kid….He shuffled even closer to the dungeon. "What about the game? It's in two days."

Peter had bought Yankee tickets shortly after Damon's birthday, he couldn't help himself. He really wanted to take Damon to the game.

"If you're assigned to the dungeon Damon, you can't go."

"That's not fair." He was getting desperate…

Peter never lost his cool. "How is it not fair Damon? You have a choice. Tell you what Damon, you can split the punishment. Every day in the dungeon counts for two licks. You could spend the next two days in the dungeon, and then you would only have to receive ten licks before going to the game. But, then again, I'm not sure how much you're going to enjoy the game if you have to stand through the whole thing."

"Can't I do it after the game?" _and then figure out how to get out of it…_

"No Damon. Your debt must be paid in full before the game."

Damon really wanted to go to the game. He really did not want to be stuck in the dungeon at the end of the summer. Winter would be okay, but not now. "Can't you just hit me?" Damon had been attacked. He had been beat up. He could survive that, it's a manly thing.

"Damon, I will never hit you with my fist."

Damon sighed, he wasn't getting any closer to the basement, but a good punch…. he could handle that.

He took a step back toward Peter. "If I do that" he indicated the paddle "we still go to the game?"

"Yes, Damon. We still go to the game."

Damon thought about it, it couldn't be all that bad... He sucked up all he had inside and took a step closer, "Okay."

Peter cocked his head. "Okay what, Damon?"

Damn, Damon thought, he's going to make me say it….

"Okay, use that." He indicated the paddle.

"No Damon. Say it." Peter did not want to go against Neal; he did not want to go against anyone. It had to be Damon's choice, pure and simple.

Damon stood before Peter. He considered himself a man. Spanking a man was degrading. But he was not in charge of his own life, the man in front of him held all the power…. He sucked up his pride….

"I chose fourteen licks with that." He indicated the paddle.

"Are you sure, Damon?"

Damn Agent Burke! Why did he make him do this? He considered all options. He was scared, he had never been whipped… his voice trembled ever so slightly…. "Yes, Sir…."

***WC***


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer:** White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin. : Criminal Minds is the property of CBS, the actors, producers, and writers of the show.

**Claimer:** Damon is mine

**Warning:** Corporal punishment of a minor in this chapter. If that offends you, **do not read.**

**AN: **A special thanks to peppe1951 for beta'ing all my DAMON II chapters, and her encouragement and input to help keep my story going.

**DAMON II** **(13)**

*** Damn Agent Burke! Why did he make him do this? He considered all options. He was scared, he had never been whipped… his voice trembled ever so slightly…. "Yes, Sir…." ***

With that, he suddenly felt himself thrown over Agent Burke's leg…..

Peter was waiting, he was ready. He got the result he had hoped for, and when Damon gave his consent he did not give him time to reconsider or change his mind. He propped his leg on the chair, brought Damon up and over his knee, held him secure with his left arm, and proceeded to deliver the requested reprimand.

Damon sucked in his breathe at the first whack. It was not a stabbing pain like an abdominal hit, but a burning pain. He tried to struggle, to get away, but Agent Burke held him fast in place. He bit his lower lip in an effort not to cry out. He tasted the blood. He felt humiliated beyond belief, and he let the anger wash over him…

When Peter was done, he set Damon back on his feet. Damon's eyes were black with the hate he felt. His back end was on fire but he refused to give in to the temptation to rub it. He turned and went to his room…

When Damon arrived in his room he almost headed for his table, his safe spot. Then he realized he wouldn't be able to sit on the hard floor. Damn that had hurt! It still hurt! And it was so demeaning…. He knew how to counteract the pain and the anger. He headed for his closet.

***WC***

After Damon had left, Peter put the paddle back on the table. He knew it had hurt, he knew from personal experience, but the kid had barely made a sound. El came up and put her arms around him.

"Are you alright, Hon?"

He sighed, "Yes, I'm fine. I don't think he took it too well. His eyes were full of anger when he left."

"It was his choice."

"Yeah, but you know Damon. He can twist things around in his head."

"Maybe I should go talk to him."

Peter patted her arm, "No, I probably should, before he lets his anger get out of control and does something stupid."

Peter headed up the stairs to Damon's room. Damon had been too upset to remember to close the bedroom door. Peter heard the thumping before he reached the room and silently approached the closet.

Damon was in mid-swing when he suddenly felt his wrist seized. He looked up to see Agent Burke; he almost started to swing his free fist toward him, almost…

Peter saw Damon's reaction, he saw the desire to swing, saw the hesitation, and he saw the tears running down the boy's face. He pulled the boy to him and embraced him. Damon tried to push him away, tried to get away, but Peter would not let him go.

"Why do you do that to yourself, Damon? Why do you hurt your hands like that?"

But Damon was not talking, he was not answering, eventually his struggles lessened and he unwillingly gave into the urge to cry…. Finally he spoke, "That hurt…."

"I know Damon. I've been on the receiving end of a few myself."

Damon was surprised; he couldn't imagine Agent Burke ever doing anything wrong. "You?"

Peter heard the shock in his voice and laughed, "Yes me."

Damon remembered Peter's dad, "Your dad spanked you?"

"Yes."

"I bet that hurt."

Peter laughed again, "Oh yeah."

"Why?"

"Well, I do remember one time it was for lying." Peter confessed.

Damon had completely quit struggling and was regaining control. "I'm sorry."

Peter loosened his hold on Damon and lifted his chin to look in his eyes. "Don't ever lie to me again, Damon."

Damon tried to duck his head but Peter wouldn't let him, "Yes Sir."

***WC***

After the hospital incident, Neal had resumed his Sunday visits, but Peter did not trust Neal to avoid the temptation to teach Damon. He had other plans.

When Damon turned in his sketch for the basement, it had included two walls. His plan sectioned off approximately one third to hold the diminished amount of brick-a-brack stored down there, and a small section to enclose the washer and dryer into a laundry room with storage cabinets. Along with the needed amount of drywall, he included furring strips; all hardware needed for the improvements, and included the amount of paint and requested colors. Damon had listed the estimated price of all materials and totaled it. Since buying all at once seemed considerable to Damon, he included a breakdown of each wall area to give the Burkes the option to buy in increments. Peter didn't think he could get better information from a contractor.

Peter knew putting up the ceiling and drywall was not a job for a child. Not only was there a height problem, but some of the tools needed to do the job were too dangerous for a child Damon's age. So he turned it into a Sunday man's job. Neal tried to protest the manual labor involved, but after a dirty look from Peter, he shut up.

Between the three of them, the basement was slowly being refinished. Peter noticed Damon was a lot more help than Neal, but what can you expect from prison labor? And it did help build a bond between the three of them, well, four, El kept them in a constant supply of drinks and snacks.

The large open room that would be left when the basement was finished, Peter talked about turning into a game room. Different options were discussed, but a ping pong table was the most dominate. Damon seemed to like the idea.

Peter had turned to him, "Do you know how to play ping pong?"

"No, but I can't be any worse at that than basketball!"

Peter had to agree, there was no way he could be worse….

Peter really wondered about Damon's selection on paint colors. The majority of the paint was a very light whitish-greyish color. But Damon had also included some plain white, some black, some blue and just a little yellow. Damon insisted if they didn't like it, he could repaint.

When Sunday's had been moved to the basement, Damon had realized he had to move his stash. The lose brick he hid it behind would soon be covered with drywall. He selected four different memento boxes, ones he knew the Burkes would not open, and split his stash between them….

***WC***

After the hospital incident, and because of his drugged response, and against Peter's wishes, El had told Damon that if he wanted, he could call them 'Mom' and 'Dad'. Damon had paled as he protested,

"No! No, Ma'am! I can't do that! No disrespect, Ma'am, but I can't."

Three different people had three different reactions to that….

Elizabeth thought it was because Damon had a mother he could not forget….

Peter thought it was because Neal was Damon's father….

And Damon knew it was because those words, those names, were sacred. They could not be used lightly. They were forever words. He had met too many foster home runaways while he was on his own, too many had told him that many of the new foster parents had wanted them to call them 'Mom' and 'Dad', to the point that the words had become meaningless. They had lost their magical significance. No, Damon could not use those words and then be sent away…..

***WC***

Damon did go back to the hustler's tables, but he made sure he did not get caught. Now that the breach was surmounted on the spanking issue, he was afraid Agent Burke would use that option more freely, and that had hurt. So he learned to be craftier, and he was able to win his $200 back before the chill ran the grifters off for the winter.

***WC***

One day in the late fall, Damon was walking down 65th Street where it ran through Central Park. He noticed a large black limousine parked about fifteen feet ahead of him with a sharply dressed gentleman leaning against the center back of the limo.

"Hello Stephen." The man said as he tossed a manila envelope at Damon's feet. He leaned back on the limo and crossed his arms.

Damon froze. The man knew his birth name. He checked his escape routes. No problem, he had a few options.

The man observed his reaction and spoke up again, "You might want to check out the contents of that envelope before you take off Stephen."

Damon knew he was far enough away that if the man made a move for him while he was picking up the envelope, he would have no problem getting away. He reached for the envelope. The man did not budge.

"Look inside Stephen."

Damon wanted to run so bad, but the man had a voice that was used to being obeyed.

Damon opened the envelope and pulled out several photos. He could not breathe. His whole body went numb with fear as he looked at the pictures.

There were several pictures, all individual photos of both Burkes and Neal, all of them had crosshairs on their heads. Damon could tell several of the photographs had actually been taken through a rifle scope, proving the trigger could be pulled at any time.

"I know you've grown fond of them Stephen. I know you don't want anything to happen to them." The implied threat was clear. He let his words sink in.

Damon was numb. He could not let anything happen to the Burkes or Neal. He waited for his orders.

"Stephen, I want you to take your phone, turn it off, and throw it in that trashcan beside you."

Damon obeyed, but since the Three-card Monte incident, he knew the phone had an FBI GPS in it that could not be turned off. He slid the phone into the manila envelope with the pictures and buried the envelope in the trash. He did not want the wrong people finding it, and he wanted Agent Burke to know why he was going to do whatever this man commanded he do. As he did this, he turned on the almost forgotten alarm feature on his watch. _Please Agent Burke, find me…. _

"Good Stephen. Now get in the limo."

Damon did as commanded; the man did not leave his position in front of the license plate until Damon had passed too far to read it. There was another man in the limo, one who was not dressed classy like the first man; he looked more like a bouncer….

The second man patted the seat beside him, indicating Damon should sit there. Damon obeyed. Damon noticed the windows were blackened and he could not see out.

The first man climbed in the limo behind Damon and sat across from him and the bodyguard. The limo started moving.

"Take off your clothes Stephen."

Damon reacted for the first time as his eyes widened in shock. _No, not that…._

The gentleman saw his reaction. "No Stephen, I am not a pervert. You live with Agent Burke and I'm sure he has planted some device on your person to track you. Strip down to your skivvies and place all your clothes in that bag at your feet. Quickly now." The man had a page on his lap with individual photos of Damon's three primes, all with sniper scope cross-hairs on them. He tapped the pictures with his fingers.

Damon understood the inferred warning and stripped. _Protect Mrs. Burke; protect Agent Burke; protect Neal; protect Mrs. Burke._

"Remove the watch too."

Damon blanched. _Please not the watch!_

The man saw Damon's reaction and knew the watch was more than a watch. "Quickly Stephen." He tapped the photos.

Damon obeyed. As soon as he did, the limo pulled to the curb and the bodyguard set the bag with Damon's clothing and the watch out. They started moving again. Damon knew Agent Burke could no longer track him, no longer rescue him. The man sitting in front of him held his life in his hands.

***WC***

When Damon's set his watch alarm off, Peter's team was on an operation almost an hour away. Peter immediately called Damon's phone on the off-chance it was an accident, but Damon's phone was turned off.

Back up teams from the FBI and the NYPD were sent to try to intercept the moving watch signal. They had a road block set up when the signal stopped moving. They waited, and then sent a team in to investigate. They found the bag with Damon's clothes and watch.

Another team was sent to retrieve Damon's phone. They found the pictures and gave them to Peter. As Damon had intended, Peter understood why he had allowed himself to be taken. Peter immediately sent Elizabeth to a safe house in spite of her protests.

He considered sending Neal to a safe house, but when they got a copy of the voice recordings taken before the watch had been removed, Neal had paled. "It's him."

Peter needed Neal's knowledge of the suspect to help find Damon.

***WC***

The limo turned several corners, evasive action, Damon thought. And then Damon realized he should have spoken while he still had the watch. He could have given pertinent information, but he had been paralyzed with fear. Damn, he thought, too late now….

The bodyguard held out a pile of clothes to Damon.

The man pulling the strings spoke again. "Put those on, Stephen. My tailor had to make them off photographs of you, but they will be good enough until we reach our destination."

Damon accepted the clothing; he was only wearing boxers and he was not comfortable. As he dressed he noticed the shirt was silk. The suit was of a quality Neal would be proud to wear. The fit was perfect.

The man had observed every action Damon made. He was impressed. Damon handled himself well under pressure, and he knew Damon was under pressure. He would work. He would do. He would be his crowning jewel. He just hoped the boy's time with Agent Burke hadn't ruined him for his future plans.

"There, now you are dressed like the man I want you to be, Stephen. Come sit over here." He patted the seat beside him.

Damon wanted to refuse, he wanted to scream, he wanted to run, and he wanted to end this nightmare. _Protect Mrs. Burke; protect Agent Burke; protect Neal; protect Mrs. Burke._ He moved to the seat beside the man.

The man produced a silk Italian necktie and proceeded to place it around Damon's neck and tie it for him.

When he finished, the man sat there and gazed at Damon admiringly. He reached out and touched Damon's head fondly. Damon wanted to cringe from the touch, _protect the Burkes; protect Neal; protect Mrs. Burke._ He controlled himself and allowed the touch.

"I have been looking for you for over a decade, Stephen. Let me introduce myself, I am your maternal grandfather. And you are my heir-designate."

***WC***


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer:** White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin. : Criminal Minds is the property of CBS, the actors, producers, and writers of the show

**Spoilers: 'Under the Radar' 2/16. **Again Jeff, I so apologize for rewriting parts to your awesome episode… I am assuming that any of you who are reading this, have seen the episode, so I will skip parts we all know by heart…. **Quotes from show are bold.**

**Claimer:** Damon is mine

**AN: **A special thanks to peppe1951 for beta'ing all my DAMON II chapters, and her encouragement and input to help keep my story going.

**DAMON II** **(14)**

*** "I have been looking for you for over a decade, Stephen. Let me introduce myself, I am your maternal grandfather. And you are my heir-designate." ***

Damon's curiosity overrode his fear for a moment. "My grandfather?"

"Yes. Your mother, Victoria was my daughter, but I'm not sure if you knew her real name."

That reminded Damon of his past, of the hell he had been through, "You killed your own daughter? My mother!"

"No, Stephen that was not supposed to happen. Julian got a little over zealous on that one." But he had wanted Victoria out of the way. She had abandoned him, she had disowned him. And she had hidden his one and only grandson from him. He had no forgiveness for her.

"Stephen, I want to make you a deal." He tapped the menacing photos.

Damon did not like this man, he did not trust this man, and he did not believe this man. But he had to protect the Burkes and Neal. "What kind of deal?"

"You will voluntarily stay with me. I will groom you to be my successor. You will accept your role as my heir."

_Protect the Burkes; protect Neal; protect Mrs. Burke._ "You promise you won't hurt them if I agree?"

"You have my word, Stephen."

Damon had no choice; he would do anything to protect his primes. "Deal."

The man held Damon's chin and looked at him, Damon forced himself not to wince, "I see your mother in you, she was a beautiful girl, and I see Neal in you… but you have my eyes…. Maybe not the color, but the depth…."

The limo quit moving, then Damon felt a slight sway. Were they on a dock, a boat? Or was he just too out of himself.

The bodyguard got out and held the door open for them. The man climbed out of the limo and motioned Damon to follow. "Now you begin your life as Stephen Adler, my heir-designate." He placed his hand on Damon's shoulder and guided him toward some doors…

***WC***

The office of New York's FBI White Collar unit was in chaos.

They had been trying to locate the notorious Vincent Adler for quite some time. Now they had proof he was in New York City. He had killed Kate, tried to have Mozzie killed, and now he had abducted Damon, although his reason for the abduction was unknown.

Sara Ellis showed up at the White Collar offices with information on a German U-boat that had sunk off the eastern seaboard at the end of WWII. With the fractal antennae Moz had been building and this new information, they hoped they could find Adler. Adler had been a thorn in their side for quite some time, and to top it all off, now he had Damon. Why did he take Damon?

While Peter and Neal where at Neal's home trying plan their next move, Neal tried to call Alex Hunter hoping she could shed some light on the situation. Alex had become as a person of interest when it was discovered she was the granddaughter of a Nazi radio operator involved with the U-boat. Vincent answered her phone….

"**Hello Neal."**

"**Adler…."** He looked at Peter who jumped up. Peter wanted to grab the phone, he wanted to demand Adler give Damon back, but he controlled the urge and let Neal handle the call.

"**After all this time you recognize my voice. I'm flattered." **

"**Where are Alex **and Damon?"

"**The lady doesn't want to be disturbed** and Stephen has chosen to stay with me."

"**I know about the U-boat.** But why did you take Damon? He's got nothing to do with this."

"**I'd be disappointed if you didn't **know about the boat**.** Stephen is non-negotiable**. Call off your dog, let it go."**

"**I can't do that."**

"**After all you've lost, first Kate, now Alex** and Stephen.** Why do you keep doing this to yourself?"**

"**I'm not going to stop, Vincent!"**

"**Neither am I."**

***WC***

The search for Damon had come to a dead end, so they started searching for Alex. They discovered the person who had seen her last and he informed them that she was heading for the Conservatory Garden. Peter and Neal headed there to see if they could find any clues. They didn't find any clues, but Alder found them and they entered his limo…

***WC***

Peter and Neal woke up from their drug induced sleep to find themselves locked in a room in a warehouse with Alex.

A bodyguard opened the door to the improvised cell and Vincent Adler walked in with his hand lightly resting on Damon's shoulder. He gently guided Damon as he entered. Peter and Neal wanted to rush forward and grab the boy away from Adler, but Damon gave a slight shake of his head stopping Peter and Neal in their tracks.

Adler stopped with Damon in front of him and slightly to the side and two body guards flanking him **"Glad you're awake."**

Peter addressed Damon, "Are you alright?"

Vincent patted Damon's shoulder, "Of course he's alright. I'm not going to let anything happen to my Stephen. I want to thank you Burke for taking care of him for me, but I'll take it from here."

Again, Peter started to step forward, to reclaim Damon, "Damon…" Damon again gave a slight shake of his head.

Adler gently pulled Damon closer and draped his arm over Damon's shoulder. "Forget it Burke. He has chosen to stay with me. Haven't you Stephen?"

_Protect the Burkes; protect Neal; protect Mrs. Burke_. "Yes sir."

Peter looked into Damon's eyes, he saw the fear, he even saw the long dormant 'rabbit', but most of all he saw resignation to his fate. "Why Adler? Why Damon?"

Adler laughed, "Surprised you haven't figured it out Agent Burke. It's because he is my grandson." He hugged Damon, "He is my heir-designate. And I'd appreciate it if you would start using his given name, not some name you made up for him."

_Grandson? How did they miss that?_

Neal wondered, **"Why are we here?"**

Adler smiled, **"Better if I show you."**

Adler placed a key in a box and turned it, the covering on the windows slid back… exposing the lost German U-boat.

Neal was in awe, **"You found it."**

Adler was ecstatic, he had the two things he wanted the most in life; he hugged Damon to him as he looked at the sub, **"Incredible."**

***WC***

As they walked through the warehouse the U-boat was stored in, Adler explained its history. In the process, Damon learned his great-grandfather was a Nazi. Great. As they walked and talked, Peter noticed Adler never once broke physical contact with Damon. He wondered at what point love crosses the line into possessiveness.

Neal queried, **"Why do you need me?"**

And Adler proceeded to explain that the sub was rigged with explosives to prevent enemy access, and he needed Neal's expertise to circumvent it. Neal explained it was a two-man job and requested Adler's help.

Damon spoke up, he had learned a lot from Neal and thought he could help, he glanced at Adler "I can help Neal."

Adler pulled Damon close yet again, "No, we will be behind blast proof glass. Agent Burke can help Neal."

Damon fought the urge to scream, to run, two of his primes were being placed in the heart of danger. Neal caught his eye and gave a slight nod, indicating they would be alright. Damon willed himself to maintain an appearance of calm.

Adler, Alex and Damon watched Neal and Peter work from the blast protected observation area. Damon held his breath. He had never observed the two of them working together before, the basement didn't count, and he was surprised how much the two trusted each other when it did count.

When the timer was accidently set off, Damon swore he would figure out a way right then and there to kill Adler if the dynamite went off and killed Agent Burke and Neal. Ms. Hunter saved them when she remembered a story her grandfather had told her.

When they had successfully entered the sub and opened the storage boxes, revealing the multi-billion dollar treasure hidden within, Adler had hugged Damon close, "It's all ours Stephen. All ours." He then proceeded to guide him down to the much coveted treasure.

When they entered the storage area, Damon could not help but notice the greed in Adler's voice as he said, **"A treasure for the ages… "** Adler never broke his contact with Damon as his free hand wandered over the treasure before him. **"Good God, it's a Rembrandt…"**

Adler regained his composer, **"We'll take it from here. You three are going for a ride."**

Damon's hopes rose for a fraction of a second before he realized Ms. Hunter was the third party… And then she challenged Adler to shoot them! Damon froze…

"**Okay. Shoot them. And then get a mop or something."**

He looked at Adler, pleading, "But sir, you promised."

"**Hold on."** Peter did not want to die, but more important, he did not want Damon to witness the death of another parent, **"Okay, we'll get in the limo."**

"**There you go, there's a reasonable man.** See Stephen, I keep my promises. **Get the drinks ready."** He guided Damon away from the others.

As Damon was led away his mind screamed. No, Adler would not kill them, he would have them killed! He knew that to the bottom of his soul. But Mrs. Burke, there was still Mrs. Burke. He knew she was still alright, he saw that in Agent Burke's eyes. He could not hide it if something had happened to her. He would bide his time. He would wait until he was older and stronger. He would not kill Adler outright, he would destroy him. His rage started to control him and he shut it down; _protect Mrs. Burke; protect Mrs. Burke; protect Mrs. Burke. _He willed himself to calm.

***WC***

But thanks to the cunning of two less than upstanding characters, Neal and Alex, the three of them were saved to fight another day.

White Collar knew Adler was somewhere on the docks, somewhere by a weather buoy… Peter was determined to narrow it down, to find Adler, to find the treasure, and most important, to find Damon.

***WC***

The next morning, FBI squads were dispatched and they resumed their search…

Peter turned to Neal, determination written on his face, **"Adler's not getting away, Neal. I won't let him."**

Neal nodded, **"I know." **Neal knew from personal experience, Peter would not stop until he treed his prey and took him down. Peter lead his teams, spreading them out for the search.

But Neal had his own gut instincts, maybe they did not run on the same frequency as Peter's, but he had them, and he wandered the way his gut pulled him…

He found the warehouse…

Adler approached him from behind, Damon of course, guided lightly by one hand. Damon was surprised and relieved to see Neal alive, he thought that maybe that meant Agent Burke was alive too.

"**You always were persistent, Neal. One of the many qualities I admire about you."**

Neal glanced at Damon verifying he was still okay, **"The FBI's closing in Adler."**

"**I know. There's an eighteen wheeler just inside there loaded with a collection of art more valuable than life. You help me get past the FBI perimeter, half of it's yours."** Damon wondered if Neal would take the deal, it was pretty lucrative, and he knew what Neal was.

"**Wow. Sounds like a really good deal. You must think I'm an idiot."**

"**I think you're an opportunist."** He patted Damon's shoulder, "The three of us could have a good life together."

"**You took everything from me."** He glanced at Damon.

"**Only after you tried to do the same to me. All's fair in love and war."**

"**Tell me why Kate had to die, if you want my help now, tell me."**

Damon tried to follow the conversation, a part of him felt Neal was more worried about Neal's dead girlfriend than him, but again, that was Neal. The next statement brought him back in focus.

"**You were as close to a son as I ever had."** He pulled Damon close, **"Come on Neal, what do you say**, he has both of our blood in his veins."

Neal glanced at Damon and then back at Vincent, **"No, **we're **nothing like you."**

"**There's nothing sadder than a con man conning himself."** Vincent almost sounded concerned, almost sounded like he cared, **"Come on Neal, let's stop hurting the people we love."** Again he patted Damon's shoulder, **"Let's bring this thing full circle. You and me. Just like old times."**

"**Go to hell."**

Just then there was a massive explosion, the blast pushed them backward. For the first time, Adler passed Damon to a bodyguard to hold him. Damon watched Neal, Adler and a couple others try to enter the warehouse, another explosion knocked them to the ground.

Damon watched in horror as Neal stopped Adler from running into the warehouse and then Adler picked up and aimed a gun at Neal.

"**You did this."**

"**No."**

"**I took from you, now you take from me."**

"**I would never burn that art, you know that."**

"**You won't get away with this. Bye Neal."**

Damon screamed when he heard the gunshot. He fought to get away from the bodyguard_, Neal was dead! Neal was dead!_ Suddenly the bodyguard let him go as he raised his hands above his head.

Damon ran toward… Neal was standing, he was alive! Adler was down…. He ran to Adler and started kicking him violently in his head over and over… Neal grabbed him, tried to stop him, pulling him away… "I'm gonna kill him! I'm gonna kill him!" he heard someone screaming repeatedly… _Was that him?_ He broke loose from Neal and ran back to Adler doing a running drop with both knees hitting Adler's chest forcing the last air ever to enter Adler's lungs out. He jumped up preparing to start kicking him once more… He was grabbed again… held back... he had to kill him… he struggled to free himself… he had to kill him…

Peter grabbed the hysterical child, turned him away from the scene, and held him tight to prevent his frantic attempts to escape. "Damon! It's over." He forced Damon's face into his chest to block the scene. "Damon! It's over." Damon's struggles slowly lessened, but did not stop.

Peter had a chaotic scene in front of him. He hoped like hell an autopsy would prove his bullet had killed Adler and not blunt force trauma to the head from Damon's kicks. He motioned Diana to him, "Take Damon back to the office and question him." He wanted to know what Damon had been put through for the last three days to turn him into this raving maniac.

"Boss, he's minor."

"Damn it, he's not a suspect, he's a witness!" _And a victim._ "Okay, get the safe house to bring Elizabeth in. Tell her I said it's okay to question him."

"Got it, Boss."

Damon was still struggling; he was not in control of himself. Peter wanted him out of there, away from the chaos, safe at the FBI office.

"Keep a tight hold on him, Diana. Don't let him get away."

Before he let Diana take him, he tried to reassure Damon one more time, "It's over Damon."

He ran his hand through his hair as he watched Diana put Damon in the SUV. A piece of burning canvas dropped at his feet…


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer:** White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin. : Criminal Minds is the property of CBS, the actors, producers, and writers of the show

**Claimer:** Damon is mine

**AN: **A special thanks to peppe1951 for beta'ing all my DAMON II chapters, and her encouragement and input to help keep my story going.

**DAMON II (15)**

*** As he watched Diana put Damon in the SUV, a piece of burning canvas dropped at his feet… ***

***WC***

By the time Diana had gotten Damon back to the White Collar offices he had calmed a bit more. She could tell he was still quite nervous, except for the shivering he had regained much of his control. She placed him in an interrogation room, not to interrogate or intimate, but the office was in a commotion over the Adler case and she wanted to keep him in a calm, and yes, in a secure area.

She did have some phycology training and knew Damon needed to be handled gently.

"How are you doing, Damon?"

Damon reached out and grabbed one of the blank sheets of paper she had in front of her…  
>"Do you want a pencil?" She set her pencil in front of him.<p>

He started slowly, methodically tearing the paper up in very fine strips…

"Is he dead?" _I hope he's dead! I hope I killed the son of a bitch!_

"Yes Damon. He's dead."

"Are you sure?" _I will hunt him down and kill him!_

"Yes Damon. He will never bother you again. You are safe." She gave him a moment, "Talk to me Damon. Tell me what's going on in your head."

Slowly, carefully, she worked the story out of him.

When Victoria was a toddler, her mother filed for a divorce from Adler and demanded custody of the child. She had mysteriously died before the divorce could be finalized and Adler maintained custody of Victoria. When Victoria turned eighteen, she left home and legally changed her name to her mother's maiden name, basically disowning Adler. Of course Adler never told Damon why Victoria did this.

Since she disowned him, he methodically went about destroying all records of her existence to guarantee she could never inherit his fortune and did whatever he could to make her current existence miserable. Damon said Adler did not take rejection well. She had to disappear to get away from the harassment.

Adler still had a trace on her when she dated Neal, and knew she had gotten pregnant, but then she disappeared so completely he lost all track of her. He had a million dollar bounty on Damon to be returned to him alive and unharmed. That finally led to him finding her in Texas. Damon did not believe her death was against Adler's orders.

He had originally hired Neal with the intention of finding out any information on Victoria or her child, but quickly surmised that Neal not only had no idea who or where Victoria was, but he had no knowledge of the child's existence. He maintained Neal in his employment because he proved to be excellent at his job and Adler had grown a fondness for him, until Neal tried to con him.

Damon believed Adler had told him all this to let him know what would happen to him if he ever defied him. Damon believed Adler was a sociopath as he unemotionally made life and death decisions over others. He radiated evil. He also believed Adler was a narcissist and his love for Damon was only an extension of his love for himself. He only prized Damon as long as he walked in his footsteps. Damon shuddered to think what he would do if he had ever rebelled against him.

Before he had finished his story, Elizabeth had arrived and her presence gave him strength to continue.

Several times during the interview he had stopped to ask Diana if she was sure Adler was dead.

By the time he finished, he had shredded several sheets of paper.

Elizabeth finally took him home, by then it was late and he was too exhausted to do anything but eat and go to bed. By then he was calm but very withdrawn, but El was not surprised after what he had been through.

Between paperwork on the case, an inquiry into the shooting; which was found to be justifiable; and grilling Neal for several hours on the lie detector for his suspected involvement in the disposition of the treasure, Peter did not get home until the wee hours of the morning.

***WC***

The next morning Damon did not get up for breakfast and Peter went to check on him, he was in bed asleep. He sat down on the bed beside him. "Hey bud, are you alright?"

Damon sounded exhausted, "yeah."

Peter gently patted Damon's shoulder. He knew Damon had been in an emotionally draining ordeal over the last three days. Now that it was over, they could aggressively seek a therapist he would accept. Past experience told him that wouldn't be easy, but now the pressure was off. Maybe he would be more agreeable.

"Well, why don't you rest awhile? Don't forget to eat when you get up."

"Yes Sir."

He gave him another pat and left. Peter knew he had a hard day ahead of him at work.

***WC***

Peter sat back at his desk. The reports had finally been filed, he had made his obligatory meeting with the staff therapist to assess his mental status after the shooting and he was cleared for duty. He finally had time to relax and think about what had happened and to think about Damon.

It had been decided that due to Fowler and Larssen's participation in the murder of Damon's mother and foster parents, and the fact he could not bear testimony against either of them, he would remain in the WC WITSEC program. Not active as it had been, but in an inactive capacity so if needed, precautions could be reactivated. Fowler had totally gone off the grid and no longer had a reason to show himself, Larssen would be in prison for years so it looked like Damon was relatively safe and could resume a more normal life.

Peter considered what that meant. What was going to happen to Damon? Gideon told him over a year ago to consider Damon's future but he had been so busy. Now the time was here. What about Damon's future? For the first time he realized he wanted to be a part of Damon's future. He wanted to send Damon to college. The kid's mind was exceptional; a several months ago he had started him into college math and Peter was starting to have trouble assigning homework fast enough to keep up. Peter felt Damon was more than ready to take his ACTs and SATs to enter college.

He smiled, yes; he wanted Damon to be a part of his family. Then another dilemma dawned on him. He didn't want to raise Neal's son, he wanted to raise his own son. He wanted Damon to be his. He realized that for a long time now he had considered Damon his and just didn't know it, but now he wanted it; officially, legally, irrevocably.

He called Elizabeth.

"Hi Hon. You busy?"

"Hi Hon. It was pretty hectic earlier. Sometimes these charities can be so demanding. But I've got a break now. What's up, Hon?"

"What would you think about keeping Damon?" He fiddled with his pen.

"What? I always thought we were going to keep Damon. Ever since the day we signed the custody forms."

Peter felt a little embarrassed, he guessed he missed that. "No Hon, I mean really keep him. What do you think about adopting him?"

"I would love to! Have you asked Damon? Have you asked Neal? Maybe then he would call me Mom." She sounded so excited, "Yes Honey, I would love to adopt Damon!"

"No, I haven't discussed it with anyone yet. I needed to know how you felt about it."

"Well, what are you waiting for? Go talk to Neal and Damon. And Hon….?"

"Yeah?"

"Make sure they say yes."

Peter laughed. "Well, I guess I could threaten Neal with prison…"

Both of them had a laugh over that, said their goodbyes, and hung up.

***WC***

Peter gave Neal the two finger point to come to his office. Neal tried to pretend he didn't see it, no such luck. He was afraid Peter was going to interrogate him about the treasure again…

"Sit down Neal."

Neal sat and plastered his best I am oh so innocent look on his face.

Peter sat back, flipping his pen over and over on the desk, "I want to talk about Damon."

Neal sigh was almost palpable. "What about Peter?"

"El and I would like to adopt him." Peter watched Neal for his reaction, what he got was not what he had expected.

"It's about time!"

Peter was confused, was he the only one who hadn't thought about Damon's future? He regrouped. "Neal, I want to make him my son."

"No problem."

"I want to decide what is right for him."

"I have never argued your decisions, Peter."

"I want to be in full charge of him, to include disciplinary measures."

"Again Peter, I have never counteracted any of your choices when it came to Damon."

"But you paled when you found out I had spanked him."

"Peter, I cannot help my personal reaction, but I never stated I had a problem with it." Neal hesitated, "I can still come to visit him, can't I?"

"Of course you can." Peter glared at him, "But no teaching him anything I wouldn't approve of."

"I never…."

"Yes you would. I don't want my son to learn the talents of your trade. Understood?"

"Yes Peter. No problem Peter." Neal smiled innocently.

Peter was somewhat at a loss. He had expected a little bit of a problem out of Neal. He thought back over the past; many a time he had been frustrated because he thought Neal should have taken a more active role as Damon's father. He realized Neal had never acted like Damon's father, and whenever Damon had needed a firm hand, Neal had been nowhere to be found….

"Neal…?"

"Yes Peter?"

"How long have you been planning this?"

"Since the day I gave him your name, Peter." Neal flashed his most charming smile. "Now he will be Damon Peter Burke."

Peter frowned; he knew Neal had had ulterior motives! Then he thought about it, Damon Peter Burke. Yes, he liked that, he liked that a lot. He smiled. "Damon Peter Burke…"

Neal smiled back, "Yep." Boy, he thought, Peter could be really slow and hard headed sometimes. It's about time he realized he loved the boy.

Then Peter let his fears speak, "What if he doesn't accept it Neal? He does care a lot about you."

Now it was Neal's turn to frown, "Wake up Peter. He has never looked at me like he looks at you. He and I are, well, friends. He respects you and El. He respects you two like a child respects their parents."

That helped calm Peter's fears, but he would have to plan his approach, Damon could be tricky…

***WC***

Peter left work a little early; he couldn't wait to talk to Damon. He was excited and prayed Damon would consent to the adoption. Well, if he didn't agree today, they had time to talk him into it, but he really didn't want to wait. He had left Damon's phone on the dining room table to make sure Damon would find it when he ate. He checked the GPS and the phone was still there. Good, Damon was home. Poor kid was probably afraid to go out after his harrowing experience.

***WC***

Peter entered the townhouse in a jovial mood. He was feeling good! He didn't see Damon downstairs, so he called upstairs for him. "Damon! Can you come down here, please?"

His words seemed to echo on a hollow house. He noticed Satchmo come to him from his dog bed, Satch never left Damon's side when he was home. He entered the dining room and saw Damon's phone on the table and…

He wanted to leave; he wanted to go back in time ten minutes when the world was right. Against his will, his steps took him to the table. His mind tried to stop him, tried to deny his body movement, he reached for the piece of paper folded under the phone…

As he opened the note, Damon's ID card, library card and homeschool ID card tumbled out. He read the note:

_Agent and Mrs. Burke,_

_I want to thank you for all you have done for me. I know you went above and beyond what was necessary to take care of a temporary kid, and I really do appreciate it. But now that my case is settled, I cannot accept being sent to CPS. Please accept my apologies, but I just cannot do the foster care route. _

_I will always have fond memories of the time I got to spend with you. _

_Thanks again,_

_Damon_

_P.S. I took some of the clothes you bought me. I hope you don't mind._

_P.P.S. Please return my library books for me._

Peter's legs started to buckle as he fell heavily into a dining room chair.

***WC***

***WC***

**##### This is the end of DAMON II, I have chosen to continue his story in DAMON III. #####**

**##### I want to thank all of you who have followed my story, and for all your kind reviews! **

**If you have not left a review and liked my story, please leave a final review and let me know! #####**


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